


Selfish Intentions

by theinsandoutsofcastiel



Series: Selfish Intentions [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-15 21:19:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10557866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinsandoutsofcastiel/pseuds/theinsandoutsofcastiel
Summary: Requests: Hi! I was wondering if you could write some hot Ketch smut? I know he hasn’t been in many episodes and you haven’t written about him before and you have tons of other requests, but I thought I’d ask! Thanks for taking the time to even read this! AND I had this idea for a Ketch fic where he’s trying to recruit the reader because he wants her for himself. The reader is interested in him, but wants him to stop following her. Somehow, they wind up working together and end up having sex. AND I know this is probably the only Ketch request you’ve gotten, but I wondered if you’d consider writing some Ketch smut. Something about him just gets me all … well, you know!





	1. Chapter 1

Warnings: Language, rough smut

Fic:

“Spare me the sales pitch, Ketch,” you sigh, “Your friend, Mick, already tried it and it didn’t work. A world without monsters and all that shit, but you Brits don’t seem to realize how things work here. If you want me to join your cause, give me a real reason, none of the rehearsed bullshit, and maybe I’d think about it.” You sit back in your booth twirling your fork against your empty plate as you measure the man who sat across from you.

He’s calm and collected. Despite your better judgment, you can’t help but acknowledge the fact that you find him attractive. You were a Winchester girl if you said so yourself, but his confidence and suave attitude did things to you that you would never admit, especially to him, which was why you needed him to stay away. The way he lingered in the background as you hunted was a distraction that you couldn’t afford.

The look on his face told you he believed he was in charge even though you had been the one to start this conversation. You had waited for him to follow you into the diner, as he was prone to doing, and as soon as he took a seat at one of the booths behind you, you slid from your seat at the counter and moved to sit across from him. He was civil, mostly, but you could tell you were frustrating him.

“I see,” Ketch replies, “The British Men of Letters has taken quite an interest in you and if there’s one thing you should know about us, it’s that we don’t give up easily. I’ve given you a multitude of reasons to join us, and I’m sure Mick has as well. How many more do you need?”

“Well, if there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I don’t give in easily,” you reply, “And I only need one reason to join your organization, the right reason.” Ketch gives you that irritating smirk.

“What could I do to persuade you?” Ketch asks.

“For starters, stop trailing me on my hunts,” you suggest.

“As I said, my organization is very interested in having you on our side,” Ketch tells you, “They would be quite angry if I were to be remiss in my duties. I was tasked with observing you, where you go, how you hunt. I intend on doing just that.” You laugh to yourself as you toss your fork onto the empty plate with a loud clink.

“They’ve got you on a leash don’t they?” you chuckle.

“I don’t do anything I don’t wish to,” he replies, irritation thick in his voice.

“Sure,” you say, leaning forward and placing your elbows on the table, “I guess you like wearing the collar they’ve got around your neck. You’re nothing more than their attack dog and I think you like it.”

“You Americans really do know how to push buttons that shouldn’t be pushed, don’t you?” Ketch asks.

“And you Brits don’t know how to leave well enough alone,” you spit back, “Like I said, stop following me. Next time I won’t ask so nicely.” You push yourself out of the booth and pull enough money from your pocket to pay for what you’d ordered before tossing it onto the table.

After Mick had tried and failed to sell you on joining their cause, he’d sent Ketch to follow you. For some godforsaken reason, you’d become of interest to them and Ketch followed you everywhere you went. The only reason you could imagine for why they wanted you was your connection to the Winchesters. Every time you looked in your rearview mirror, there he was on that sleek bike. You’d press harder on the pedal and just when you’d think you lost him, there he was again.

Bringing your car to life, you pull out of your space and head down the road. A smirk crosses your lips as you flick your eyes up to the rearview mirror and find the road behind you void of that damn bike and the man who was so very distracting. Maybe telling him to leave well enough alone would finally make him stay away. If not, you were prepared to resort to more drastic measures.

The rest of the drive to your hunt is uneventful. You stop down the road from the demon’s nest you were hunting, as not to arouse suspicion, and open the trunk of your car. Rummaging through your supplies, you pick out your angel blade along with a flask of holy water. Shutting your trunk, you make your way down the road. A distinct feeling of being watched washes over you. The feeling gets stronger and you go on full alert, knowing that you’re being followed.

A loud crack of a stick breaking causes you to spin and you catch the man who was following you off guard. Making your way to him in a few quick strides, you grab the front of his leather jacket and slam him up against the nearest tree. Despite the fact that he was much bigger and probably much stronger than you, you’re able to pin him there, the tip of your angel blade pressed against his throat.

“What did I tell you about following me?” you ask him. The bastard doesn’t look a bit concerned. You press the weapon harder to his skin and he only seems amused.

“As I recall, you said you wouldn’t ask so nicely next time,” he replies, “I suppose you weren’t lying, were you?”

“I’m past the point of asking,” you growl, “I want you and your fucking organization to leave me the Hell alone.”

“I can’t do that, Love,” he replies. Good lord; his voice, the way he looked at you, the way he acted as if he were in control despite the fact that you had a blade to his throat, it was doing things to you that you never thought he could do. Sure, he was handsome, even you had to admit that, but he was also a stalker and quite possibly a psychopath.

“Why the fuck not?” you ask him angrily.

“You do have a mouth on you, don’t you, Darling girl?” he teases with a smirk.

“I asked you a question, I expect a fucking answer,” you growl.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies with a smirk.

“Well?” you press.

“You hunters, you’re either with us, or you’re against us,” Ketch tells you, “Personally, I’d rather have you as a friend than an enemy.”

“Why is that?” you further question.

“You’re strong, I’ve seen that and I respect it,” Ketch replies, “Despite being the American hunter you are, you’re also quite intelligent.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you answer his backhanded compliment.

“My superiors want me to focus on recruiting the Winchesters, but I’d much rather focus on you,” he adds.

“Sorry, you what?” you ask, taken aback.

“You asked me to give you a reason to join us, something that wasn’t ‘rehearsed bullshit,’ as I believe you phrased it,” Ketch explains, “Well here I am, giving you a reason. I’ve seen you hunt and I know how you fight. Let me hunt with you, show you what I can do and prove myself to you. If you don’t like what you see, you’re free to continue hunting on your own, without my intervention. On the other hand, if you change your mind about joining the British Men of Letters, you’re welcome to continue hunting with me.” You laugh in response, finally pulling your weapon away from his throat.

“You’re a sneaky bastard, you know that?” you ask, “How did you follow me without me noticing?”

“I didn’t have to follow you,” he replies, “I placed a tracking device on you when we spoke at the diner.”

“Fucking asshole,” you comment, pushing him hard against the tree before stalking off. You’d play his game, let him hunt with you and see what he was capable of before telling him to fuck off yet again. He stays in place as you walk away. “Are you coming or not?” you call back.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies as he follows you. A smile pulls at your lips; you could get used to him addressing you like that.

***

The hunt had been rough on you both. There had been more demons hidden within the walls of the abandoned warehouse than you had expected. Despite Ketch’s fancy weapons, he still wound up getting hurt, and so did you.

This was the first time you’d ever seen him fight and despite your preconceptions about the man, he won your respect. He was crazy and probably too enthused about killing, but he was a hunter, unlike the higher ups in the British Men of Letters. Ketch knew what it was like to be down in the trenches, fighting hand to hand with the monsters. You knew he’d lost people too, you could see it in his expression when he saw the demon dragging a knife across your side.

Ketch had killed the demon on the spot, only to be harmed by another of the monsters. This demon had stood right behind Ketch, stabbing a knife into Ketch’s right upper arm. You lunged forward, your body pressed right up against Ketch’s, pushing your angel blade deep into the demon’s stomach. He was closer to you than he had ever been before; the heat from his body and the adrenaline coursing through your veins made you want to do something about it. Ketch looks at you in pure shock, whether it was from the pain of being stabbed or from the fact you’d fought to protect him, you weren’t sure.

When the fight was finally over, he insisted on driving his bike back to his hotel, but you refuse to let him do that. The man was in no shape to drive a motorcycle and you weren’t about to let him get himself killed. He protested all the way back to your motel, but it did no good.

“Sit down,” you instruct as you pull your first aid kit out of your duffle bag and grab a bottle of whiskey from your dresser. Ketch grumbles in protest, but does as you ask and takes a seat at the edge of your bed. “Take off your clothes,” you add.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think -” he begins.

“Shut up,” you interrupt, “I’ve heard that line before and you’re no Winchester.” If you let things go too far you’d wind up in bed with him, just like you’d wound up in bet with Sam and Dean multiple times before. His smirk falls to a look of irritation.

“What’s so great about the Winchesters anyway?” he asks you.

“They’re heroes,” you answer, “Those boys have saved my ass more times than I can count, not to mention the fact that they stopped the fucking apocalypse and saved the world on more than one occasion.”

“I just saved you,” Ketch pointed out, “Does that make me a hero?”

“Ha!” you laugh, “Don’t forget that I saved your ass too; and let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You saved me once, that doesn’t make you a hero, it makes you manipulative.”

“I don’t follow,” he admits.

“I’m not stupid,” you sigh, “I know you saved me because you thought it would make me more likely to join your cause. Now take your clothes off.” When he continues to refuse, you decide to take care of your wound first. Taking the lid off your bottle of whiskey, you down a drink before setting it back on the nightstand. Reaching down, you grab the hem of your ruined shirt and pull it up over your head before tossing it to the floor. Your wound stings, but when you examine it, it doesn’t look so bad. The cut was clean and it wouldn’t need stitches.

The distinct feeling of being watched returns and when you look up, you see Ketch’s eyes raking over you. You roll your eyes and reach for the bottle of whiskey again, pouring some over your wound in order to cleanse it. A hiss escapes your lips at the burn.

“What the bloody Hell are you doing?” Ketch asks, clearly taken aback by your actions.

“Patching myself up, what does it look like?” you ask in return, “I know it probably doesn’t live up to your excessively high standards, but this is what I know and it’s worked for me so far.”

“If you had just let go back to my bike and grab my supplies, I would’ve had my first aid kit,” Ketch so helpfully tells you. You sigh, ignoring his comment as you wipe away your blood and begin bandaging your wound.

“See, I’ll be fine,” you comment as you finish up, “Now let me look at your wound so I can patch it up.”

“You and I, we make a good team,” Ketch tells you.

“Nice try, stop stalling,” you demand.

“I mean it,” Ketch says as he takes his leather jacket off and pulls his black t-shirt over his head. You can’t stop yourself from taking in the sight of him the same way he had done to you. He’s sure to notice, but you can’t take your eyes off him. “Bloody demon,” Ketch curses, examining his wound.

“It looks like he got you good,” you comment as you grab the bottle of whiskey, “Here, drink.” Ketch grabs the bottle and takes a swig, a look of disgust on his face before taking another.

“What is that?” Ketch asks, “It’s awful.”

“Oh, come on, that’s one of my favorite ways to celebrate after a hunt,” you chide him.

“One of?” Ketch questions, “And in what other ways do you like to celebrate?” You don’t even dignify that with an answer. Instead, you grab the bottle and pour some of the whiskey onto his wound. “Ah!” he winces.

“Calm down,” you tell him as you place the bottle on the nightstand, “You’re going to be just fine as soon as I stitch you up.” He watches you warily as you thread a needle and move back to his side. You wipe away the blood and just as you’re about to make the first stitch, you change your mind. “I need a better angle,” you inform him as you move to straddle his lap, something you were so used to doing when you stitched up Sam or Dean that it seems natural.

You don’t even think about what you’re doing until his hand moves to your thigh and squeezes. He watches you wide eyed and you swallow hard as you process what you’d done. You make sure not to move or touch him unnecessarily. “You’re beautiful,” he says.

“Wow,” you laugh nervously, “Two sips of whiskey and you’re drunk. I didn’t take you for a man who couldn’t hold his liquor.” His hand squeezes your thigh tighter as you start stitching.

“I’m not drunk,” he protests, “I watched the way you fought, the way you moved. You killed that demon for me, why?”

“Just returning the favor,” you comment, trying to keep your focus on stitching Ketch’s wound rather than his hand slowly sliding up your thigh.

“I thoroughly enjoy watching you fight,” Ketch continues, “It’s one of the reasons I continue to keep tabs on you. There was a moment back there… and now this.” You pull the last stitch tight and bite the thread to break it, the taste of his blood on your tongue.

“Stay right here,” you instruct. You try to move from his lap, but Ketch stops you.

“Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll let you go,” Ketch states.

“I -” you falter, unsure of what to tell him. His hand reaches up, thumb swiping along your bottom lip to wipe away his blood. “You’re drunk,” you repeat, but you don’t move. Instead, you stay seated in his lap, your breathing heavy as his grey-green eyes search yours.

“You like to celebrate after hunts, correct?” he asks you, “Having completed a successful hunt together, it only seems appropriate that we celebrate together as well.” Fuck, you wanted him, but given who he was and who he worked for, you knew it wasn’t wise.

“Like I said, you’re not a Winchester,” you comment, trying to make any excuse you could think of.

“I don’t need to be a Winchester to give you what you want,” he tells you, his voice rough. One of his hands splays across your back and pulls your body flush against his.

“Fuck,” you whisper. He was rock hard, his cock straining against the material of his jeans.

“That’s exactly what I plan on doing, Love,” Ketch replies, his smirk returning, “Watching you fight, there’s something about it, something so entrancing. It does things to me, things I’m not proud of.”

“You’re ashamed an American hunter can turn you on?” you ask him.

“No, I’m ashamed that you can distract me from my tasks the way you do,” Ketch corrects, “The first time I saw you was when I was following the Winchesters. I was supposed to be recruiting them, but all I wanted was you. I wanted to make myself known to you right then and there. I wanted to feel you writhing beneath me, memorize every curve of your body, leave kisses up your thighs and tease you until you begged for more. I wanted to cage you beneath me and know what it felt like to move inside you, to hear you moaning my name, your nails digging into my skin as I give you the release you’d been craving.”

“You think you’re a fucking poet, don’t you?” you ask breathlessly. He chuckles and you can feel it in his chest more than hear it. The whole time his fingers trace feather-like along your skin. It amazed you how a man like this could be so gentle.

“I want you, Y/N,” he tells you, using your name rather than a pet name for the first time since you’d met him. That was the nail in the coffin, you wanted him too. The way he said those words, not to mention the way he said your name or the way he looked at you when he said it, it made you need him.

“I … let me finish bandaging your wound,” you stall. You knew by doing this, you were betraying Sam and Dean’s trust and you hated that. At the same time, you wanted nothing more than to let Ketch have his way with you.

“No,” Ketch refuses, his hand pressed firmly against your back to keep you in place, “I’ve got you exactly where I want you and I’m not about to let you go, unless of course that’s what you’d prefer. Is it?” You in no way preferred that.

Something about the way he watches you causes you to snap. Cupping his face between your hands, you bring your lips to his in a heated kiss. His hand stays firmly against the small of your back as his other hand moves to open the clasp of your bra. He pulls the front of the bra down until the straps are at your elbows, your breasts falling free of the cups. His hand moves to your breasts, squeezing roughly and tugging at your pebbled nipples. As you kiss him, you let your hands slide down his body, fingertips tracing the hard lines of his chest and shoulders. His tongue fights yours for dominance, but you don’t give in easily.

Ketch only becomes rougher the longer you refuse to give him his way. His hand moves from your breast and fists into your hair. You moan as he pulls your hair hard enough to tilt your head back, breaking the kiss.

“You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?” Ketch chuckles approvingly, “I like my women feisty.” His lips press rough kisses to your neck until he reaches your ear. “I bet you like it rough don’t you?” he whispers, lips brushing the shell of your ear. You moan in response, your hips rocking down against him. You can feel yourself getting wetter by the second, the feeling of his thick cock beneath you making you need him.

Ketch groans along with you and something in him snaps. He grabs you and turns you so that you’re lying flat on your back, caging you beneath him. The look in his eyes has you rubbing your thighs together in search of friction. One of his hands grabs your bra, tearing it the rest of the way from you and tossing it to the floor.

“I must admit, when I recommended recruiting you, I wasn’t doing it for anyone’s benefit but my own,” Ketch tells you, “Men of Letters be damned, I didn’t want you for them, I wanted you for myself.”

“Well, now you have me,” you prompt as you let your fingers trail feather light down his chest and abdomen, “What do you plan on doing?”

“Well, if you must know, I - oh, Y/N, fuck,” his train of thought is completely derailed as you palm him through his jeans

“Actions speak louder than words,” you tease. Reaching for the button of his jeans, you pop it open and pull down the zipper before slipping your hand into his boxers. Ketch’s eyes shut and his jaw clenches as you wrap your hand around his thick length. His hips buck as you glide your thumb across his leaking slit, collecting the precum and using it as lube as you begin to stroke him. 

“Y/N,” he groans as his hips buck, fucking your hand. Suddenly his eyes open and they’re dark with lust. He reaches down with one hand, roughly opening the front of your jeans. Pushing his hand into your panties, he quickly finds your clit and presses his thumb to it.

“Ketch,” you moan, bucking your hips up towards him.

“Call me Arthur,” he requests, but you have no intention of doing that. Two of his fingers slide along your damp folds, teasing you with the idea of being fucked. His fingers just barely dip into you before pulling back out and he does it over and over again. “You’re so wet for me,” Ketch groans approvingly, “You’re going to feel so good, Love.”

With that, he pulls himself away from you and stands by the edge of the bed. You watch as he strips himself of the rest of his clothing. Damn, he was gorgeous; everything from the way his eyes flooded with need to the way his muscles ripple just beneath his tattooed skin as he pushes his pants down around his ankles. You draw you bottom lip between your teeth as his hard cock springs free, your core aching for him to be inside you.

“Fuck,” you whisper, your eyes lingering on his thick cock. Ketch smirks as he leans forward and grabs your boots, pulling them from your feet one by one. He tosses them carelessly to the floor before hooking his fingers into the waistband of your pants and panties. You lift your hips to help him as he yanks the material down.

“Tell me you want me,” Ketch demands. He parts your legs and moves to stand between them. His hands take hold of your hips and his fingers dig into your skin as he pulls you right to the edge of the bed.

“Fuck me,” you moan as his throbbing cock nestles into your dripping folds. Ketch rocks his hips, his cock sliding along your entrance and against your clit. You writhe as Ketch teases you, your hands fisting into the sheets beside your head. You draw your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch his cock moving against you, wishing he would sink into you.

“Look at me,” Ketch demands, your gaze reluctantly moving to meet his.

“Ketch, I need you to fuck me,” you tell him, his expression smug as ever.

“Yes, ma’am,” he practically purrs. Ketch shifts his hips, taking away the friction he had been giving you, but he quickly makes up for it as he pushes into you. He holds your gaze as he fills you to the hilt.

“Ketch,” you moan, your back arching as you adjust to the feeling of his thick cock inside you.

“I told you to call me Arthur,” he reminds you, a hint of a warning in his voice. His reminder is punctuated with a rough thrust, causing you to gasp.

“Ketch,” you repeat, determined to refrain from calling him by his first name. Ketch is obviously annoyed by your lack of obedience. Positioning your hips at just the right angle, he thrusts into you, making you cry out as his cock hits your g-spot. You reach out with one hand, grasping his bicep and wishing you could run your hands along his body and through his hair.

“Y/N,” Ketch grunts as he sets a demanding pace, “You take me so well, Darling girl.” You moan and whimper as he moves inside you, gasping as his thrusts push you hard against the bed.

“Fuck,” you pant. Pressure builds in your stomach and your walls pull tight around his cock. He throbs and twitches inside you, nearing his end. Each of his thrusts brings you closer and closer to your release as well.

Ketch’s rhythm falters. His pace slows, but his thrusts become no less rough. One of his hands releases your hip and his forearm comes to rest beside your head as he leans over you, using the new angle to his advantage. His other hand slides down from your hip and hooks behind your knee; drawing it high around his waist and using the new leverage to push deeper inside you. Finally, you’re able to touch him and you waste no time exploring his body. You card your fingers through his hair, drag your fingernails down his back, squeeze his ass and pull him flush against you with each thrust.

“Fuck,” Ketch grunts, his pace increasing again. His lips meet the crook of your neck, leaving bruising kisses and biting at your skin, sure to leave marks. “Cum for me, Y/N,” Ketch demands, “I need to feel you cum around my cock.” You hold onto him as you teeter on the edge of orgasm, his muscles tensing beneath your fingertips.

“Ketch,” you moan, your back arching and your toes curling, “Fuck, Arthur!” You cry out his name as your orgasm crashes into you, your walls squeezing his throbbing cock. Wrapping your arms around him, you pull him as close as you can as if he couldn’t be close enough. His rhythm falters again, but he continues thrusting, working you through your high as he chases after his own.

“That’s it,” Ketch praises, “Fuck, Y/N.” One of his hands fists into your hair and he crashes his lips against yours, consuming you as he reaches his high. He groans against your lips and you swallow the sound as his cock pulses, filling you with his cum. Pressing the heel of your foot against his ass, you pull him flush against you, making his cock pulse deep within you.

“Ketch,” you sigh, your body relaxing as you begin to come down from your high.

“I get you to call me by my first name once and already we’re on a last name basis again?” Ketch asks. He begins pressing gentle kisses to your neck, soothing the marks he’d left across your skin.

“I hope this wasn’t an attempt to recruit me,” you tell him, “Because you can fuck me absolutely senseless and I still wouldn’t say yes to working for the British Men of Letters.”

“Trust me, Love, my intentions were purely selfish,” he assures you, “Right now all I care about is having you.” 

“Was I what you imagined?” you ask him, tracing the tattoos adorning his skin.

“Better,” he answers, “I very much prefer the American method of celebrating a successful hunt to the British one.” Kissing your lips one last time, he pulls himself from you and moves to your side.

“Yeah?” you tease as you turn onto your stomach and prop yourself up on your elbows, “Then maybe we’ll have to do it again sometime.”

“I thought you didn’t want to work for us,” Ketch replies, eyebrow raised.

“I don’t want to work for them,” you qualify, “But, on occasion, I wouldn’t mind working with you. After all, you said yourself that we make a good team.”

“I’d like that,” Ketch tells you, his smug expression returning, “I told you I didn’t have to be a Winchester to give you what you wanted.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requests: Could you please continue selfish intentions? AND Your Ketch fic would make a great series! Please continue it if you’re up to it! Pretty please? AND I read your Ketch fic and caught the part where you said the reader had slept with the Winchesters as well. Could you maybe write a foursome? AND May I request an Arthur Ketch fic where he covers the reader’s mouth with his hand while they’re fucking so that the boys don’t hear? AND ‘Selfish Intentions’ LORDY LOU! That was absolutely fabulous and hot AF!! You so need to write more Ketch! I don’t care what kind of fic but damn!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, I didn’t exactly follow the request about the foursome. It made more sense when I was writing this to have a threesome with the boys and a separate scene with Ketch, I hope that’s okay!

Warnings: Language, smut, threesome, anal, multiple orgasms, jealous!Reader, jealous!Ketch, rough sex

Fic:

You spent the first night with Ketch fucking each other senseless. In the morning you were sore in the best way possible and though you knew Sam and Dean would feel betrayed by what you’d done, you didn’t regret a single moment of it. Eventually, you had to let each other go. You drove him out to where he’d parked his bike and watched as he drove away. He insisted that you keep the tracking device he had placed on you and despite your initial reluctance you finally agreed, placing it in the dashboard of your car for safe keeping. If you ever needed his help, on a hunt or in other capacities, it would only make it easier for him to find you.

It had been two weeks since that night you’d spent with him and you hadn’t heard a single word, which for some reason royally pissed you off. You weren’t about to break down and be the first to call, to beg for more. No, you set your mind on other things, like hunting with the Winchesters and what might come after the hunt was finished. They called early in the morning and by noon you were meeting them in their motel room.

“Thanks for coming, Y/N,” Dean greets you as he lets you into their room. Sam has his laptop open, fingers typing away as he researches their latest hunt.

“No worries, you know I always enjoy hunting with you two,” you tell them. Dean gives you a knowing smile as you let your fingers trail along his chest. “So, what are we hunting this time?” you ask as you move to stand behind Sam’s chair. You lean forward, reading the screen over his shoulder as you absentmindedly let your hands run down his chest.

“It’s, um, we think it’s a gorgon,” Sam tells you, obviously distracted by the way your fingers explore his chest, “The town is having some sort of festival and people have been dying in the maze they have set up.”

“A maze?” you question, “Sounds more like a minotaur to me.”

“No,” Dean shakes his head, “People have been turning to stone, a minotaur couldn’t do that.”

“Well now you tell me,” you sigh, “Thanks for withholding that helpful piece of information, Sam.” You were only teasing, knowing exactly what you were doing to him. “Well, if we know what we’re hunting and how to kill it, what are we waiting for?” you question.

“Well,” Dean begins, but doesn’t get to finish.

“There are two main ways to kill a gorgon,” Sam explains, “Make it look at itself in a mirror so that it turns itself to stone, or behead it.”

“So what were you two planning on?” you question.

“The maze has four exits,” Dean explains, “We plan on having one person stationed at each exit.”

“If we all go in at the same time, we can trap the monster in the middle of the maze and kill it,” Sam adds.

“So there’s four exits, but only three of us,” you reason, “You’re math isn’t adding up. Who else did you invite?”

“Our mom,” Sam answers. You had met her on a few occasions, but only recently learned about her working with the British Men of Letters. You knew you shouldn’t see her as a traitor, especially not after what you’d done, but you couldn’t help the growing resentment you felt towards her. The thing you hated most about Mary working for the British Men of Letters was the fact that she worked so closely with Ketch, not that you were jealous of her of course. Ketch had never made any promises to you, nor you to him. Besides, you had your Winchesters and if he was sleeping with one too, you had no right to stop him.

“We know how you feel about the British Men of Letters,” Dean steps in, “We feel the same way, but their only involvement in this hunt is to provide weapons. Our mom has assured us that she’ll be on her own.”

“And you believe that?” you scoff.

“Not really,” Dean admits. You’re about to comment, but a knock at the door cuts you off. Sam stands from his seat and heads to the door.

“Hey, Mom,” Sam says, hugging her tight. Dean takes his turn next.

“Y/N,” Mary greets you.

“Mary,” you reply in return with a nod of your head. Having only met her a few times, you considered her more of an acquaintance than a friend.

“I brought the weapons they promised,” Mary announces, “They’re in my car.” she leads the three of you out to her car and opens her trunk, showing you what she’d brought. You look around as she opens the trunk, on the lookout for the motorcycle that signaled Ketch was nearby. It was nowhere to be found. You weren’t sure if that fact made you happy or disappointed; you were still conflicted about your feelings for him.

“Mirrors?” Dean asks, drawing you out of your trance, “You’re kidding right? Where are the guns, the knives, the grenade launchers?”

“They’re shields,” Mary qualifies.

“If you guys had told me what we were up against, I could’ve grabbed a hand mirror on my way here,” you mock.

“A hand mirror won’t help you,” Marry sighs.

“Oh, but a giant ‘shield mirror’ will?” you shoot back, “The damn thing is so big I won’t be able to fight. How are we supposed to carry weapons if we’re carrying those?”

“The mirrors are the weapons,” Mary explains, “The Brits don’t want us fighting the creature hand to hand, it’s too dangerous. They want us to turn it to stone.”

“The Brits are starting to get on my nerves,” you grumble.

“Thanks, Mom,” Sam says as he grabs one of the shields from the trunk, trying to cut through the tension, “So if we each take one of these, we can move into the maze and trap the gorgon in the middle, forcing it to look at itself and turn it to stone.” This wasn’t the kind of hunting you’d been expecting. You wanted to hit something, to really fight; take your frustration out on this monster, but obviously you weren’t going to get to do that. Damn Men of Letters.

***

“Everyone ready?” you hear Dean’s voice ask through the walkie-talkie.

“Ready,” you reply, Sam and Mary replying soon after. With that, the four of you head into the maze, brandishing your shields, which were hardly weapons in your opinion. Instead of relying solely on these mirrors, you had strapped your machete to your hip as you got ready for the hunt. You wanted to be prepared in case things went south.

The twists and turns of the maze have you turned around and you weren’t even sure if you were going the right way. If you all got lost, how would you ever trap the gorgon in the middle of the maze? That was it, it was time to cheat. Stabbing the bottom of your shield into the ground so that it stands up, you grab hold of the hedges that made up the walls of the maze and begin to climb. For some reason, the fact that Ketch hadn’t even bothered to show up in the past two weeks, let alone call or even text made you angry and your anger made you reckless.

Reaching the top of the hedges, you sit on the edge, looking down into the maze. From your vantage point, you could make out shadows and the movement of the hedges here and there. It takes a little while, but eventually, you make out the gorgon. It’s headed towards Sam and if you could just walk along the tops of the hedges, you could make your way to the monster, drop down behind it, and gank it.

You stand on wobbly feet, the hedges threatening to give way beneath you, and quickly move along the top of the wall. Drawing your machete from its sheath, you grip it tight as you drop down from the top of the wall, landing on the balls of your feet. You quickly right yourself and before the gorgon even has the chance to spin around, its head it tumbling to the ground.

Heavy footsteps sound, the noise getting louder as Sam runs towards you. “Y/N?” he asks, “Are you alright?”

“Perfectly fine,” you say with a victorious grin. Looking down at the dead monster at your feet, you can’t help but feel a little proud of the fact that you hadn’t needed the ‘weapons’ the Men of Letters had loaned you.

“Where’s your shield?” he asks.

“Ditched it,” you shrug, “It was dead weight.” Sam frowns, clearly annoyed that you had changed the plan.

“Let’s get out of here,” Sam says. He grabs his walkie-talkie and notifies Dean and Mary that the gorgon is dead.

“You did what?” Mary asks you angrily as soon as she sees you.

“Killed a monster,” you tell her, “Like I was supposed to.”

“You were supposed to use the mirror,” Mary corrects you.

“I’m not a minion for the Brits,” you answer, “I don’t have to do every little thing they want, like some people I know. I’m a hunter and I did my job. Do you have a problem with that?”

“The mirror wasn’t just supposed to kill the gorgon, it was supposed to trap its gaze so that it could be used to turn other creatures into stone,” Mary explains.

“Well, I’m sorry I ruined your plans,” you apologize with a heavy dose of sarcasm, “If I had known you were getting us to make another weapon for the Brits, I’m sure I would’ve acted completely differently.”

“I’m just …” Mary begins, “No, you know what, I don’t have to explain myself to you. Sam, Dean, next time you need my help, make sure she’s not involved.”

Mary decides not to stick around longer than necessary. As soon as she’s packed up, she heads back to the British Men of Letters’ headquarters; where you’re sure Ketch is waiting for her, much to your annoyance. You decide to go back to the motel with Sam and Dean. Maybe spending some time with them could help you wind down and relieve some of the tension that had building within you for the last two weeks. Maybe they could help get Ketch out of your thoughts.

“What happened today?” Sam asks you, “I mean, I know you aren’t best friends with our mom or anything, but I thought you two at least got along.”

“That was before she jumped ship and started working with the Brits,” you answer before taking a sip of beer. It was also before she started sleeping with Ketch, not that the boys needed to know about that particular issue you had with their mother.

“Well, I’m glad you see things the way we do,” Dean says, raising his bottle to you, “I don’t trust them as far as I could throw them.”

“After what they did to you, to Sam, I don’t blame you,” you tell them. You felt guilty about your encounter with Ketch and yet you still wanted more.

“She’s doing what she thinks is best,” Sam reasons, “I just wish she would’ve told us what she was doing instead of lying to us.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, apologizing not only for Mary’s actions but for your own as well.

“Can we talk about something else?” Dean sighs, “I’m sick of talking about how our mother shacked up with the likes of them.”

“Like what?” you ask him.

“Like what I’ve been dying to do to you since you got here,” Dean answers.

“And about how you need to be punished for not following our plan,” Sam adds.

“Oh?” you ask, pretending as if they weren’t turning you on, “Because what you call not following orders, I see as getting the job done.” Dean places his beer bottle on the table in front of him and leans forward, closer to you.

“Do you have any clue how incredibly sexy you are?” Dean asks.

“You’ve told me once or twice,” you comment with a smirk.

“I think it’s been more than once or twice,” Sam corrects. You watch as he stands and moves closer to where you sit, towering over you. He holds his hand out to you and waits for you to take it. Grinning wickedly, you place your bottle on the table and slip your hand into Sam’s. He pulls you roughly to your feet and pulls you up against him, his hands all over you. Leaning in, he captures your lips and kisses you deeply. Dean seems content with watching for the time being, drinking his beer as he mentally undresses you.

Running your hands up Sam’s chest, you begin to undress him button by button. Sam’s hands move down to your hips and he begins walking backward, guiding you toward the bed. He stops when he reaches the edge of the bed and his hands move to his belt buckle, undoing it before opening the front of his jeans. You try to push Sam’s shirt from his shoulders, but he stops you, taking one of your hands in his and guiding it down into his boxers.

“Just like that,” Sam instructs as he wraps your hand around his stiffening cock and strokes. Pulling his hand away, he gives you control and you can feel him growing in your hand. Sam returns his attention to undressing you. He opens the front of your shirt and pulls your breasts from the cups of your bra, squeezing roughly. Moaning softly, you arch your back and press your breasts more firmly into his hands, your nipples pebbling beneath the pads of his thumbs.

“That’s our girl,” Dean praises, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he settles himself behind you. His hands trail gently down your sides until he reaches your hips, pulling you back against him.

“Dean,” you gasp as he grinds his hard cock against your ass. Dean brushes your hair over your shoulder and begins pressing light kisses to your neck. Sam is much more demanding than Dean, as he always seemed to be. The contrast between them was something you’d always found exciting about being with the brothers.

You moan as Dean’s hands slide around to the front of your jeans, opening them before slipping one hand into your panties. “I bet she’s already wet for us, isn’t she, Dean?” Sam mutters against your lips. Dean slides two fingers along your entrance and groans.

“Fuck, we’ve barely even touched her and she’s already dripping for us,” Dean replies. Sam’s cock twitches in your hand at the mere idea of you being so wet for him already. A moan escapes your lips as Dean slides two finger inside you, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit.

“That’s our girl,” Sam praises, “Come here.” Sam pulls his hands away from you long enough to push his pants and boxers down before taking a seat at the edge of the bed. His hard cock slips from your hand and your eyes travel down Sam’s body, focusing on his cock and wanting to feel him inside you. At the same time, you grind yourself back against Dean, giving him friction and egging him on. His fingers continue to move inside you, curling against your g-spot.

The brothers work together to pull down your pants and panties, slip your shirt from your shoulders, unhook and remove your bra. Sam’s actions are frenzied and rough, Dean’s slow and gentle. For some reason, the contrast only reminds you of Ketch, of the way he could be so gentle one second and so rough the next. The reminder frustrates you beyond belief. You knew you shouldn’t want him the way you do, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“I need you, both of you, please,” you groan.

“So good for us,” Dean praises. A loud groan of disappointment escapes your lips as Dean pulls his fingers from you. “I’ll be right back,” Dean soothes you, “Don’t worry, Sam will take good care of you, won’t you Sammy?” As if on cue, Sam takes hold of your thighs and pulls you toward him, guiding you to straddle his lap.

“You’re gonna feel so good,” Sam groans, pulling you down against him as he nips at your skin hard enough to mark you. You turn to look in Dean’s direction, wishing he would come back, but Sam cups your cheek and brings your gaze back to his. “Look at me,” Sam demands, the command ringing in your ears in Ketch’s voice. What was wrong with you? Here you were, with Sam and Dean, two gorgeous, perfect men, and all you could think about was a man you were supposed to despise.

Sam keeps your gaze as he guides you onto his cock, sheathing himself inside you. “Fuck,” you sigh, your walls stretching to accommodate his size. With a satisfied smirk Sam lies back on the bed, his hands guiding you up and down. His eyes flick down, watching himself disappear inside you again and again. The feeling of Sam inside you already has pressure building in your stomach.

“Are you ready for me, Sweetheart?” Dean asks you as he takes his place behind you again.

“Dean, please,” you moan, loving the way Sam feels inside you.

“That’s our girl,” Dean praises. His fingers brush the base of your spine and slide gently up your back until he reaches the spot between your shoulders. Pressing his hand flat to the spot, he pushes you forward and gives himself a better angle to enter you at. The new angle has Sam sliding against your g-spot with his every move and you can’t stop the moans from falling from your lips.

Sam captures your lips and muffles the sounds you make as Dean lines his lube slicked cock up with your back entrance, sliding into you slowly. The slight burn you feel as Dean pushes into you quickly turns to pleasure. You try to focus on the feeling of having both boys inside you, each of them moving at their own pace, but no matter how hard you try to keep your mind on them, you can only imagine Ketch. Every time you close your eyes, you can picture his lust filled eyes, imagine his hands grasping at you, feel him moving inside you. Fuck, he was so frustrating.

“Fuck,” Sam grunts, his hips bucking up from the bed. You only now realize how hard you had been pushing back onto them, egging them both on. Sam’s hands grasp your hips tight enough to leave bruises and even Dean is becoming rougher than usual, leaving marks of his own.

“Sam, Dean,” you moan against Sam’s lips. Breaking the kiss with him, you look over your shoulder to watch Dean. His eyes are shut and his jaw clenches tight. Dean’s hips roll, each thrust pushing him deep inside you. His hands grasp your ass cheeks, fingertips digging into the skin as he pulls you back onto him

One of Sam’s hands fists into your hair, tugging roughly. “So good for us,” Sam groans, “Fuck, I’ve missed this.” Their rhythms falter as they both near their highs.

Your walls pull tight and flutter around them, the pressure in your stomach becoming too much to hold back. “Please,” you moan, Ketch’s name on the tip of your tongue. You have to bite your bottom lip between your teeth in order to hold the name back.

“Y/N,” both Sam and Dean groan, their cocks twitching inside you. Both of them praise you, encouraging you to cum around their cocks. It isn’t long before you do just that.

“Sam, Dean!” you cry out as the knot in your stomach snaps, the pressure finally releasing. You sit back up on your knees, riding out your high as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. Your walls squeeze their cocks, both of them groaning at the feeling of your body reacting to theirs. Dean’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you tight against him as he buries his cock deep inside you and comes undone.

“Y/N,” Dean grunts, “Fuck.” He nestles his face into the crook of your neck as he spills himself inside you. His hips continue to roll as he works himself through his high.

“Cum inside me, Sam,” you moan, riding him. His eyes watch the way you take him and the sight is enough to draw him over the edge.

“Y/N!” Sam shouts, his hips bucking up as he spills ribbons of cum inside you. His muscles tense and relax as you work him through his climax and you admire the way he looks beneath you.

“I’ve missed you guys,” you sigh, melting back against Dean. Sam’s hands move to your thighs, his rough fingertips pressing into your skin. Dean’s hands squeeze your breasts as he leaves gentle kisses to your neck as the three of you begin to recover from your highs.

***

After cleaning yourself up, you head back to your room. The boys seemed disappointed that you didn’t want to spend the night, but you thought it was better to have some time to yourself. Just as you’re about to close your door, a hand pushes it back open. Your instincts instantly kick in and you pull your machete from its sheath at your hip.

“No need to be so alarmed, Love,” Ketch informs you, “It’s only me.”

“Good thing I’ve got a weapon then,” you shoot back.

“You wound me,” he tells you, leaning on the doorframe.

“Get in here before someone sees you,” you demand, afraid the Winchesters might spot him at your door. Ketch obliges and you quickly shut the door behind him. “What do you want?” you ask, unwilling to show him how you really felt about him showing up.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he queries in return, “I’m here for you.”

“It’s been two weeks,” you reply, crossing your arms, “You don’t write, you don’t call. What makes you think I’m still interested?”

“Tell me you aren’t and I’ll leave,” Ketch offers.

“Don’t you have orders to follow or something?” you question instead of answering.

“Perhaps, but they can wait,” Ketch answers.

“I’m sure Mary is waiting for you,” you tell him.

“Waiting for me?” Ketch ponders, “Now why would she be doing a thing like that?”

“Please,” you scoff, “You follow her around the way you followed me and you expect me to believe nothing happened between the two of you?”

“Ah, now I understand,” Ketch replies smugly, “You think I’m shagging her.”

“Well, aren’t you?” you press.

“Jealousy looks good on you, Love,” Ketch answers.

“I’m not jealous, and that’s not an answer,” you inform him.

“If you must know, no, I am not,” he answers, moving closer, “Though from what I’ve seen, perhaps I should be the jealous one.” You take a few steps backward until your back hits the wall.

Ketch’s hands press to the wall on either side of your head, caging you between the wall and himself. Your heart pounds, the predatory look in his eyes sending shivers down your spine. You wanted to touch him, tear his clothes from his body, but you refrain. Ketch was all about power, you knew that, and you’d be damned if you were going to let him have it that easily.

“Are you?” you ask him, “Jealous I mean?”

“Of course not,” Ketch answers, “Obviously neither of them are as good as I am, otherwise you wouldn’t need them both.”

“Or maybe they’re both better than you and having them at the same time is just twice as good,” you shoot back. Ketch’s smug expression turns to one of irritation, you can tell you’ve hit a nerve and he was going to punish you for it. You had him exactly where you wanted him.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’ll be able to feel me days later,” Ketch growls, “I’ll make sure that next time you’re shagging them, I’ll be the only thing you can think about.” He already was, not that you were going to tell him that. You huff a laugh as you smirk, the action setting him off.

Reaching down, he takes the weapon from your hand, you easily let him have it, and tosses it to the side. Next, he grabs your hips and turns you to face the wall, pressing you hard against it. You turn your head, your cheek pressed against the wall, to watch him over your shoulder. He grinds himself against you and you can already feel his hard cock through all of the layers of clothing. You couldn’t help but wonder if he already knew what he’d don’t to you, how hard it was to think about anything but him even when you were being fucked by two other men. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous,” you comment breathlessly.

“Only as jealous as you are, Love,” Ketch answers. Taking hold of your wrists, he pins them against the wall above your head and holds them there with one hand. His other hand slides down your body until he finds the button of your jeans, deftly opening them. “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” Ketch admits as he slips his hand into your panties, his fingers quickly finding your clit.

“Then why did you wait so long to find me again?” you question, unsure if you should press your hips forward into his hand or back against his cock.

“I was otherwise occupied,” Ketch tells you, “If I had been free, I would’ve been here, keeping you from your beloved Winchesters and making them very jealous.”

“I thought you didn’t do anything you didn’t want to do,” you remark.

“This was important,” Ketch replies vaguely, “But now that I’m here, I can do exactly what I want, exactly what you want.”

“If Sam and Dean knew what I was doing, they’d probably kill me,” you tell him, rocking your hips back and forth.

“I doubt that,” Ketch replies, “Besides, I wouldn’t let them.”

“Oh, so you’re my protector now?” you scoff.

“Only if you need me to be,” he replies. You’re about to respond, but he cuts off your words by sliding his fingers along your entrance before pushing his middle finger into you. “You’re so wet for me, Love,” Ketch growls right next to your ear, “What would your Winchesters think of you now I wonder?” He slides a second and third finger into you, making you whimper.

“Ketch,” you moan, fucking yourself on his fingers. He presses his lips to the sweet spot behind your ear and you feel him smirk against your skin as you moan and whimper. It felt good to have his body up against yours again; you only wished you could tear away the layers of clothing separating you. Your thoughts of his naked body are interrupted by the heel of his hand pressing against your clit. He pumps his fingers in and out of you, the wet sound of it only seeming to egg him on. 

“You’re going to feel so good around my cock, Love,” Ketch groans, his fingers curling inside you, “The way you take me, the look in your eyes when I fuck you, I can’t get enough. I need you to cum for me, now. I want to feel you cum around my fingers.”

“Ketch,” you moan louder, your hands turning to fists. You wish you could touch him, pull at his clothes and card your fingers through his hair, but he keeps your wrists pinned firmly against the wall.

“Shh,” he shushes you gently, “You wouldn’t want your Winchesters hearing you moaning my name now would you?” You groan, biting your bottom lip in an attempt to muffle the sound. Ketch chuckles, watching you as you come undone beneath his touch.

“Ketch,” you moan, desperately trying to keep your voice down as your walls clamp down around his fingers. Your body shudders and you writhe against his body as waves of pleasure crash over you.

“That’s it,” Ketch praises as he works you through your high. He presses rough kisses to your neck as you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm, leaving marks of his own alongside those Sam and Dean had left. “I need you, Y/N,” Ketch groans, rocking his hips against you for emphasis. If you were being honest, you needed him too.

Ketch finally releases your wrists and quickly turns you around, pulling his fingers from you and pressing your back to the wall. You cup his face between your hands and bring his lips to yours, your tongues fighting for dominance. As you slide one hand to the nape of his neck, you use the other to pull down the zipper of his leather jacket. Ketch works on removing your clothing as well, pushing your pants and panties down around your ankles. 

You kick off your shoes and toe off your socks before kicking your pants and panties to the side. All the while, you push Ketch’s jacket from his shoulders and let it drop to the floor with a heavy thud. Ketch unbuttons your shirt and pushes it open, his hands instantly finding your breasts. You arch your back, pushing your breasts into his hands and Ketch takes the opportunity to slide one of his hands to your back, unhooking your bra. He pulls your clothing from you and drops it to the floor, leaving you completely naked.

Letting your hands slide down his chest and abdomen, you reach for the hem of his black t-shirt and tug. Ketch gets the message, breaking the kiss just long enough to allow you to pull the material over his head. His lips are back on yours in a second, his hands exploring your body and pulling you closer. Reaching between the two of you, you unbuckle his belt and open the front of his jeans. Ketch grunts, his hips bucking forward as you palm him through his boxers.

“You like that, don’t you?” you tease, squeezing his cock slightly as you stroke him. His eyes shut and his jaw clenches, his fingertips digging into your skin. You press your thumb to his cloth covered tip, the material soaked with precum.

Ketch’s eyes open again, only a thin ring of grey-green surrounding his lust blown pupils. “I need you, now,” he tells you. You draw your bottom lip between your teeth and nod, pulling him in for another deep kiss as he removes the rest of his clothing. Ketch’s hands move down to your thighs, lifting you from the ground and making you squeal as he wraps your legs around his waist. “We have to be quiet, remember? Your Winchesters are right next door and you wouldn’t want them finding out what you’re up to now would you?” Ketch asks with a smirk. 

“Shut up and fuck me,” you demand, making Ketch’s smirk become a grin.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies with that phrase you’d come to love. Ketch shifts his hips and positions himself at your entrance, capturing your lips as he pushes into you. Digging your fingernails into the skin of his shoulders, you try desperately to hold onto something solid as Ketch pulls back and pounds into you again.

“Ketch,” you moan against his lips as he sets a demanding pace. His every thrust pushes you hard against the wall and you knew that if you weren’t careful, Sam and Dean would hear. Ketch didn’t seem to care. His fingers press hard into the skin of your thighs as he holds you against the wall, fucking you into oblivion. The way he moves inside you is exactly what you’d been craving.

Ketch breaks the kiss and buries his face into the crook of your neck, biting down on the delicate skin and leaving marks. “Y/N,” he groans against your skin, his cock throbbing and twitching inside you. He thrusts into you hard enough to make the painting on the wall shake and threaten to fall. A change of angle has him hitting your g-spot with each thrust.

You drape your arms over his shoulders, carding your fingers through his hair and pulling him against you as pressure builds in your stomach. Your walls pull tight around his cock, making him grunt in response. His name falls from your lips, much too loudly, and you move a hand to cover your mouth as if you could take back the word.

“You’d be screaming for me right now if it weren’t for the Winchesters in the next room,” Ketch growls.

“Fuck, Ketch,” you moan, your head falling back against the wall. One of Ketch’s hands moves from your thigh and covers your mouth, muffling the sounds you make.

“They’re going to hear you, Love,” Ketch warns. You knew perfectly well that Sam and Dean would hear you, but Ketch was making it so damn hard to be quiet.

Pressing the heels of your feet against him, you desperately try to hold onto him as your orgasm mounts. Ketch’s every thrust works you closer and closer to the edge. His rhythm begins to falter and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he lost control. You moan into the palm of Ketch’s hand, your words unintelligible even to yourself. His hips stutter and his cock twitches hard, making you cry out against his hand.

If his hand weren’t covering your mouth, you’d scream his name as you come around his cock. Ketch grunts as your walls clamp down around him, your body shuddering against his. He continues to thrust, working himself to his high. His hand falls away from your mouth and he replaces it with his lips. You swallow the sounds he makes as he cums.

Ketch’s buries himself deep inside you as his cock pulses, spilling his hot seed against your walls. You hum in contentment against his lips as you both ride out your highs. As much as you hated to admit it, you needed this, needed him. “Two weeks was much too long to wait to have you again,” Ketch whispers as he breaks the kiss. He nestles his face into the crook of your neck and presses gentle kisses to the marks he’d left on you.

“Keep that in mind next time you’re following Mary across the country,” you tell him.

“If you’d agree to joining us, I could be working with you rather than her on all of my hunts,” he informs you.

“Do you really expect me to give in that easily?” you question.

“No, but I thought it was worth a try,” he answers.

“Well, you’re gonna have to try a little harder,” you tease.

“I can work on that,” Ketch replies with a smirk, pulling you away from the wall and carrying you to your bed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requests: Please, please, please continue selfish intentions!!! <3

Warnings: Cannon violence, reader injury, smut, public sex, spanking

Fic:

“Follow me,” Ketch instructs.

“As if,” you scoff, pushing past him, “This is my hunt, so it’s my rules. I invited you, not the other way around, and you’ll be the one following me.”

“Yes ma’am,” Ketch replies, obviously amused.

“Besides,” you continue, “I’m not interested in your high tech weapons, so you might as well put them away.”

“I’m hardly showing off, Love,” Ketch corrects, “I’m simply exemplifying the toys I get to play with, the toys you could play with if you joined us.”

“The only ‘toy’ I need is right here,” you answer, showing him your machete. “You’ve watched me hunt,” you tell him, “You know I prefer my own weapons to your fancy pants ‘toys.’”

“Fair enough,” Ketch replies with a smirk. He places his weapon back into his backpack and pulls out a machete instead. You watch as he flips the weapon in the air, catching its handle again. Show off. “After you,” Ketch insists, gesturing towards the graveyard. With a smirk, you saunter off, leaving Ketch to follow.

You’d been hunting a ghoul and though you didn’t really need Ketch’s help, you’d invited him anyway. He’d invited you on a few hunts in the recent weeks and you couldn’t help but think he was only trying to keep you away from the Winchesters. His attempts to recruit you didn’t go unnoticed either. You wondered how Mick felt about his best hunter spending so much of his time on you.

The graveyard was eerily silent, fitting for a graveyard at twilight you supposed. Reportedly, grave robbers had been digging up bodies in town, but when you’d come to investigate you learned the truth. This wasn’t the work of a grave robber; no it was a ghoul, eating the flesh of the dead and if you didn’t stop it, if would begin eating the living as well.

You’d narrowed down the possibilities for where the ghoul might be hiding and suspected this graveyard was its hideout. If all went as planned, the creature would wind up dead and by the end of the night, Ketch would wind up in your bed. Suddenly, Ketch’s hand catches your upper arm and you stop in your tracks, the sound of tearing flesh hitting your ear.

You place your finger to your lips, indicating for Ketch to be quiet. He nods and you give him silent instructions to sneak around the ghoul so that the two of you can trap it between you. Ketch nods again and takes his leave, moving silently. Crouching, you move forward to the nearest headstone and press your back to it, trying to discern where the monster was.

From the sound of it, the monster was maybe two or three rows of graves away. The sounds it made as it fed made you shiver, but when the sounds stopped, that’s when the adrenaline really began running through your veins. Peeking around the edge of the headstone, you watch as the monster rises to its feet and turns towards the direction in which Ketch should be. The creature must’ve heard him.

Without thinking, you spring from your hiding spot and run towards the monster, ready to lob its head off. You raise your weapon as you come within reach of the monster and just then, it turns on its heel, catching your throat. The monster grins as it squeezes your throat tighter, not caring as you slash at its arm with the machete.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” the monster says, sickeningly sweet, “I don’t normally enjoy people snooping around my feeding ground, but this presents an interesting opportunity.” The ghoul catches your wrist with its free hand, attempting to force you to drop your weapon. You refuse to let the monster get the better of you.

Finally you see Ketch sneaking up behind the monster, his finger against his lips, telling you not to give him away. He holds his weapon as if he’s ready to stab the monster in the back and it gives you an idea. As soon as he’s close enough, you push the monster back and kick it hard in the stomach. The monster stumbles and Ketch lunges forward, stabbing the ghoul between the shoulder blades. It screams out in pain, but you end those screams by cutting its head clean off.

“Took you long enough,” you chide Ketch, your voice rough from where the ghoul had tried to choke you. Your breaths are ragged and the night air burns as it rushes through your throat.

“I apologize for that,” Ketch replies as he pulls his machete from the monsters back and lets its body slump to the ground. He looks down at the monster with disgust before stabbing his weapon into the ground. “I didn’t mean to let it hurt you,” Ketch continues, pulling off his blood stained gloves as he walks towards you. You gasp as Ketch reaches up and runs his hands gently along your neck, turning your head and assessing your bruises in the dim light. “I’m sorry,” he says gently.

“It’s not your fault,” you say hoarsely.

“Still, I apologize,” Ketch says, “This doesn’t set a good example of the protection the Men of Letters can offer you.”

“Come on now,” you tease, “Don’t blame your organization for your own shortcomings.” Ketch raises an eyebrow at you, making you grin. Leaning in, you press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” you tell him, “I might be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Ketch replies, “You’re very capable.”

“For an American?” you finish for him. Wiping your machete clean on the grass, you slide it back into its sheath at your hip.

“Well, yes, but I wasn’t going to add that bit,” Ketch says, “As I said, you’re very capable. It’s part of the reason I want you as my permanent hunting partner.” Once again, he was trying to recruit you.

“Oh?” you question, “And what’s the other part?”

“I believe you know the answer to that, Love,” Ketch replies before capturing your lips. You respond to the kiss for a moment before breaking it.

“As romantic as it is to be kissing you under the moonlight in a graveyard, we have a body to clean up,” you inform him.

“Leave it,” Ketch instructs, “I’ll call Mick and he’ll send out a team to take care of the mess. Believe it or not, the Men of Letters are good for something.” Ketch arms slip around your body and you find yourself kissing him again.

The adrenaline from your hunt still coursed through your veins and you could tell Ketch was in much the same state. The wounds you’d incurred didn’t even bother you at this point, you had other things on your mind. “Call Mick,” you mumble against his lips, “I’ll meet you back at my motel room.”

“No,” Ketch growls against your lips.

“No?” you question.

“I need you, now,” he answers. You gasp as he easily lifts you from the ground and wraps your legs around his waist. The way he has you wrapped around him has his hard cock pressed right against your core. Even through all the layers of clothing, you could feel his arousal, his need.

“Sorry, but I’m not going to fuck you right next to a dead body,” you point out, lazily carding your fingers through his hair.

“But you are going to fuck me?” Ketch clarifies.

“Maybe later,” you shrug, “If I’m still in the mood.” Ketch narrows his eyes at you, but begins walking you back toward the parking lot. You place teasing kisses along his jaw and down his neck as he walks, a groan rumbling in his throat.

“Like I said, I need you now,” Ketch repeats.

“In public?” you question.

“Yes, Love,” Ketch replies, “Is that a problem?” It was dark and you weren’t really concerned about getting caught. You shake your head ‘no’ as excitement builds within you. Your core is beginning to ache with need for him.

When Ketch reaches his bike, he lets your legs slip from his waist. You reach up, carding your fingers through his hair as you draw him in for another kiss. His hands are everywhere, pulling at your clothing, tugging at your hair, running softly against the bruises on your neck.

You let your hands run down his body until you find the buckle of his belt and the button of his jeans. Opening them, you slip your hand inside, palming him through the material of his boxers. Ketch groans in response, his hips bucking towards your touch. “I want you,” you mutter, your free hand coming to rest against the nape of his neck as you draw him in for a deep kiss.

Ketch’s tongue dances with yours, each of you attempting to take control of the kiss. When you don’t give in to what Ketch wants, he pulls away. “Turn around,” Ketch demands.

“Yes, sir,” you reply teasingly. With a smirk, you slowly pull your hand from his pants as you turn around.

“I like the sound of that,” Ketch tells you, pulling you back against him.

“Better than you like the sound of me calling you Arthur?” you question, grinding back against him for emphasis. Ketch growls as he leans in, pressing kisses to your neck.

“Say it again,” Ketch requests.

“Make me,” you demand. Ketch chuckles, the vibrations rumbling through you. His hands travel down your body and make quick work of your belt and the front of your jeans. One of his hands moves to your back, pushing your forward so that you’re supporting yourself with your hands against the seat of his bike.

Ketch’s fingers slip beneath the material of your panties and pull them down along with your pants. The cold air hits your damp core, making you shiver. You wiggle your hips to help him until the material is around your knees. Ketch’s hands slide along the bare skin of your ass, making you moan as he squeezes. “We should’ve done this much sooner,” Ketch says. You whimper as his hand falls against your ass.

He squeezes the flesh to relieve the sting. At the same time, he taps the insides of your feet, encouraging you to spread your legs. You do just that, spreading them as wide as they’ll go with your pants and panties still around your knees.

“Ketch, please,” you groan, needing to feel him inside you. Ketch groans, his hand sliding over the curve of your ass before his fingers make their way between your legs. You slump forward, your elbows coming to rest against the seat of Ketch’s bike.

“So wet,” Ketch comments approvingly. His fingers tease your dripping folds, giving you just a hint of friction, but nowhere near the satisfaction you crave. You rock your hips back, trying to push his fingers inside you, but Ketch makes sure not to give you the friction you need.

“I need you, Arthur, please,” you moan, your fingers grasping the side of the seat of Ketch’s bike. Ketch’s fingertips dig into the skin of your hip at the sound of his name. The single word was enough to spur him on.

Ketch pulls his fingers away from your entrance and you watch over your shoulder as he pushes down his pants and boxers just far enough so that he can pull his hardened length from them. A curse falls from your lips in a whisper as you watch him slick his length with your juices.

He lines himself up with your entrance, the tip of his cock brushing your damp folds. “Y/N, Love,” Ketch groans as he sinks into you. His eyes fall shut and his head tips back as he bottoms out inside you, your walls stretching to accommodate his size.

“Fuck, Ketch,” you moan, wiggling your hips and encouraging him to move. Ketch’s eyes open and focus on the spot where he disappears inside you as he begins moving. “Mmm, that’s it,” you moan. Ketch’s hands grasp your hips, holding you still as he thrusts. His belt buckle clinks with every move of his hips.

The slap of skin on skin invades the night air alongside moans, grunts, and groans, accompanying the song of the crickets all around you. You hold Ketch’s bike tight, trying to hold onto something as Ketch pounds into you, his cock throbbing against your walls. Your core aches, but the friction Ketch gives you is nothing other than pure perfection. He’s working you closer and closer to the edge and it wouldn’t be long before you were tumbling over the edge. Ketch grunts and suddenly stops his thrusts.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him, your question more of a whimper.

“Nothing,” he answers, his hands sliding from your hips to the small of your back, “But I’d like to watch you fuck yourself on my cock.” You moan at the idea, your head falling forward to rest on your forearm. Your stomach twists and your walls begin to tighten around his throbbing cock. “Go on,” Ketch encourages, his hands resting easily against the curve of your ass.

“Fuck,” you whisper, rocking your hips back and forth. You make your movements slow at first so that he can watch as you take every single inch of him inside you.

“Mmm, you take my cock so well, Love,” Ketch praises. You moan as he brings his hand down against your ass again, the skin stinging. The action makes your rhythm falter and you find yourself picking up a faster pace. Ketch seems to appreciate the new pace, spanking you again.

“Fuck, your cock feels so good,” you moan. You were on the verge of climax and you knew Ketch was too. “Fuck, Arthur,” you hum. At the sound of his name, he grabs your hips and pulls you back onto him, hard.

“I can’t hold back,” Ketch grunts, “I need you to cum for me.”

“After you,” you answer, giving him permission to lose himself. Ketch grunts, his eyes shutting tight and his jaw clenching. He pulls you back onto him as he delivers three hard thrusts, his cock pulsing as he buries himself deep inside you. As he cums, he moves one of his hands to the front of your body, his fingers quickly finding your clit. His rough fingertips press hard circles to the sensitive bundle of nerves, giving you exactly what you need to send you spiraling over the edge.

“Arthur!” you cry out, your body shuddering as your walls clamp down around his pulsing cock. He keeps his fingers pressed to your clit, sending aftershocks through your body. “Fuck, that’s good,” you gasp, his orgasm prolonging your own. Ketch leans over you, his hand moving from your clit to rest against the seat of his bike.

“Having you like this, it’s exhilarating,” Ketch whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. He brushes your hair over your shoulder and presses feather light kisses to the side of your neck.

“You’re right, we should’ve done this sooner,” you agree. You can feel him smirk against your skin. He nestles his face into the crook of your neck as he pulls himself from you, his cum dripping down your thigh.

You both clean yourselves up as best you can and fix your clothing. When you’re done, you lean back against Ketch’s bike, watching him as he strengthens out his jacket. His eyes scan up your body and a smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. “You look quite fetching on my bike,” Ketch comments, taking a step closer, “Perhaps you should let me take you for a ride sometime.”

“I think you already have,” you reply, making him chuckle. His body is pressed to yours, his arms wrapped tight around you. You slide your hands up his chest and to the nape of his neck.

“Yes, we’ll -” Ketch begins, but you cut him off by pressing your lips to his. One of his hands comes up to cup your cheek, the other gently caressing the bruises on your throat. This kiss is much gentler than the previous ones.

“Call Mick,” you instruct, breaking the kiss and resting your forehead against his, “So we can get this mess cleaned up.”

“And I suppose you don’t plan on staying here until that happens do you?” Ketch guesses.

“Of course not,” you answer, not caring to stick around so Mick could give you his ‘world without monsters’ speech yet again, “But once you’re done here, I’ll be waiting for you in my motel room, if you care to join me.” Ketch chuckles before capturing your lips, giving you his answer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can’t wait to read more Selfish Intentions! Love your writing and especially love this story! AND Can I please request more of your Ketch series?

Warnings: Language, smut, semi-public sex

Fic:

“Why are you dragging me to a library?” Ketch complains, “When I agreed to help you, I thought we’d be hunting, not researching.”

“Shush, I’m trying to concentrate,” you tell him as you begin picking the lock on the library’s door. You’d been researching all day and discovered that the library had a stash of books that were only available to certain individuals, which seemed suspicious in and of itself. When the librarian refused to let you see these books, you acted as pleasant as you could and left the library without incident. That didn’t mean you didn’t plan on coming back after hours.

You’d gone back to your motel room and called the Winchesters for help, but they were too busy to answer; so you’d resorted to calling Ketch. You knew he wouldn’t be happy about doing research, but you knew you had a way of enticing him. Besides, you needed to get in and out quickly and an extra set of eyes couldn’t hurt.

When the lock clicks open, you usher Ketch inside and follow him in, shutting the door behind you. “Why can’t Mick and his team conduct the research while we tend to other matters?” Ketch asks, pulling you to him by your hips. His lips press rough kisses to your neck.

“Because,” you answer, slapping his hands away, “This is my hunt and I don’t want them involved.” He looks disappointed as you push him away.

“And yet you called me,” Ketch points out, “I am one of them.”

“Yeah, I called Sam and Dean, but they were busy. You were my second choice,” you tell him. His smirk instantly turns to a frown. “Come on,” you tell him, “The books are back here.” you turn on your flashlight and head down the hallway. Ketch grumbles as he follows you.

“Research is so boring,” Ketch complains, looking uninterestedly at the books as he passes them.

“You just don’t know how to do it right,” you tease him, “If Sam was here, I’d be having so much fun by now.”

“What kind of research do the two of you conduct?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you ask teasingly. Reaching the back of the library, you find a locked room, which you suspected held the books you wanted to get your hands on. “Hold this,” you tell Ketch, handing him the flashlight. He sighs and holds the flashlight as you begin to pick the lock. “There,” you say, satisfied. Pushing the door open, you flick on the light and you’re very disappointed by what you find. There were way more books than you had expected and it would take you forever to go through all of them.

“What were you looking for exactly?” Ketch questions.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, “I was hoping for a list of names of the witches in this town, but I guess that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?”

“Best get started, Love,” Ketch comments, tossing you a book, “Looks like you’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“Yeah, and you’re helping,” you tell him, tossing the book back to him.

“Where are the bloody Winchesters when you need them?” Ketch grumbles.

“Look, if you help me find what I’m looking for, I’d be very grateful,” you tell him, taking a step closer. Ketch grip tightens on the book in his hands as you run your hand up his chest.

“Fine,” he says, “But only for you.”

“You’re so sweet,” you say, playfully placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t tell anyone else that,” Ketch replies, “I’d hate to ruin my reputation.”

“Be a good boy and get to work,” you tell him. Ketch reluctantly moves away from you and takes a seat at the table at the center of the room. He opens the cover of the book in his hands and begins flicking through the pages, sighing dramatically. You begin browsing the shelves until you find a book that looks promising.

Skimming through book after book, both you and Ketch find mentions of sacrifices that had occurred in the town throughout the years. While they sound similar to the occurrences that had been going on lately, nothing helped you determine who the perpetrators might be.

“This is pointless,” Ketch groans, “When do I get to kill something?”

“As soon as I figure out what we’re killing,” you tell him. You sigh as you shut another book and toss it to the side.

“I need a break,” Ketch says, running a hand through his hair, “I feel as if my eyes are going to fall out of my head.”

“Me too,” you admit, pinching the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger.

“Perhaps you should show me how to research the proper way,” Ketch invites, making you chuckle.

“Sam’s always had the right idea,” you tell him, “Every time we go to a library together, he can’t keep his hands off me. He’ll finger me under the table while we read; sometimes I’ll jerk him off. Other times we’ll find a quiet spot and he’ll fuck me against the shelves. He’ll cover my mouth so I don’t make a sound.”

“Are you just trying to make me jealous?” Ketch asks. His eyes are dark and he looks as if he’s ready to lunge across the table in order to get his hands on you.

“Only trying to give you some ideas big boy,” you answer. As you talk, you kick off your shoe and run your toes up his leg before pressing them to his crotch. He groans as you press your foot to his erect cock, stroking him through the material of his jeans. With a smirk, you pull your foot from him and climb onto the table, crawling towards him. You grab the front of his jacket and pull him in for a rough kiss.

Without breaking the kiss, Ketch stands from his seat and guides you to sit at the edge of the table. His hands grasp your hips and he slides you right up against him, his cock pressed against your cloth covered core. “You’re going to feel so good, Love,” Ketch mutters against your lips. His hands grasp you as he lifts you from the table. He carries you to the nearest bookshelf and presses you up against it. “Is this what your Winchester does?” Ketch asks as his hands begin tearing your clothing from your body.

“My Winchesters are so good that they don’t have to ask if they’re doing things correctly,” you tease him, making him growl.

“Fine, if that’s how it is,” Ketch says. He grabs your hips and spins you around. You grasp at the shelves, holding on as Ketch removes the rest of your clothing. His fingers find the button of your jeans and he opens them up, yanking them down your legs along with your panties.

Once you’re completely naked, Ketch runs his hands along your body, admiring every inch of you. “Sam would be making me scream by now,” you comment, hoping to egg him on.

“You’re in a library, Love, don’t you have to be quiet?” Ketch asks. He fists his hand in your hair and tugs your head back, exposing your neck to him.

“Depends on the library,” you reply, “When we’re in the bunker’s library, we can be as loud as we please. Those boys have fucked me all over that bunker, in every place and position you can think of.” You knew telling him this would set him off and as you expected, your words seem to egg him on.

Reaching down, he makes quick work of his belt, pushing his jeans and boxers down around his knees. He lines his cock up with your entrance and pushes into you without warning, filling you in one swift stroke. He gives you little time to adjust before he begins pounding into you at a pace that makes your knees weak. Each of his rough thrusts makes his belt buckle clink, the sound accompanying the sounds of grunts and moans.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” Ketch praises. One of his hands stays firmly on your hip, the other sliding down to your knee. He lifts your leg, placing your foot on one of the lower shelves. The new position only opens you up to him further, giving him a new angle to enter you at. He bucks his hips and you cry out as he hits a spot deep inside you.

“Arthur,” you whimper. Ketch hits your g-spot with each rough stroke, making you quiver. His hand slides up from your knee and moves to your breast, squeezing the flesh roughly. With the way he fucks you, you knew you’d have bruises and that you’d be able to feel him inside you long after he’d gone back to his headquarters.

The shelves shake as Ketch pounds into you, his cock throbbing against your tightening walls. You cry out his name again and again, as you desperately cling to the bookshelves. He felt so good and the dirty things he growls in your ear combined with the slap of skin on skin drive you wild. Ketch fists his hand in your hair and pulls your head back, crashing his lips against yours. He has you teetering on the edge of climax, but just as you’re about to reach your high, Ketch tires of the position.

You groan in disappointment as Ketch pulls himself from you. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he pulls you away from the bookshelf and carries you to the table. He turns you and pushes you back, helping you onto the tabletop before pressing you back against it. One of his hands splays across the table beside your head, the other grasping your hip tightly as he pushes into you again. His thrusts are steady and determined, working back to his previous pace.

“Arthur,” you moan, grasping his forearm tightly. You reach above you with your free hand, holding the edge of the table so tightly that your knuckles turn white. Each of Ketch’s hard thrusts has your breasts bouncing and Ketch can’t take his eyes off your body. He wets his lips and draws the bottom one between his teeth. His chest heaves as his pace becomes erratic.

“Y/N,” he grunts as your walls flutter, “That’s it, fuck.” His hand grips your hip tighter, fingertips leaving bruises on the delicate skin. His head tips back in ecstasy and his body shudders as he reaches his end. “Y/N!” he grunts loudly as his cock pulses and he spills himself inside you. His thrusts are erratic as he works you to your high and works himself through his own.

“Arthur,” you gasp, the pressure that’s been building within you becoming too much to hold back, “Arthur!” You scream as your walls convulse around him, milking him for all he’s worth. Your nails dig into his skin as you writhe against the table, pleasure coursing through your veins. “Fuck,” you whisper, your heart racing.

“Y/N,” Ketch sighs as his thrusts slow and come to an end. His hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb running across your cheekbone. “You’re right,” Ketch admits, “I’ve been conducting research entirely wrong.” You laugh, reaching for him as he leans down over you. He presses his lips to yours, kissing you deeply.

“We should get back to researching,” you say reluctantly as Ketch breaks the kiss. He groans as he rests his forehead against yours.

“Must we?” Ketch questions, reluctant to pull himself from you.

“Well, the sooner we figure this out, the sooner you get to kill something,” you tell him.

“And the sooner I’m done killing witches, the sooner I can get back to doing what I really want to do,” Ketch adds.

“Hunting with Mary?” you ask him.

“No,” Ketch groans.

“Flirting with Dean?” you tease.

“I couldn’t think of a more painful idea,” Ketch grumbles.

“Oh, come on,” you say playfully, “You know you enjoy flirting with Dean just as much as I do.” Ketch sighs as he pulls himself from you.

“You’re incorrigible,” Ketch tells you, offering you a hand and helping you from the table.

“Just the way you like me,” you tease. Pressing yourself up against him, you straighten out his black jacket and pull the zipper just a little higher, patting his chest playfully. Ketch smiles, his hand caressing your cheek. “Come on,” you say, nodding to the shelves, “Help me find what I’m looking for and maybe you’ll get a little reward.” Ketch dresses himself and obediently picks up another book, skimming through the pages. Though his eyes should be scanning the pages in front of him, you can feel him watching you as you dress.

“I’m glad you called me,” Ketch admits, breaking the silence, “Even if I was your second choice.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please keep selfish intentions going. Not enough people write Ketch and you do it so well. AND Will we get to see the softer side of Ketch in your selfish intentions series? I’d love to see him become emotionally attached to the reader eventually! AND ‘Selfish Intentions 4’ I love this series! So freakin hot! I humbly request more! *fans self*

Warnings: Language, some drinking, smut, masturbation, voyeurism, oral, multiple orgasms

Fic:

Ketch had been a great help in hunting the witches that had been sacrificing townspeople a month back, despite his lack of interest in actually researching. Since then, he popped in and out of your life. If you were on a solo hunt, he was sure to be there, but if the Winchesters were involved, he kept his distance and clung to the shadows. Your latest hunt involved hunting down a werewolf. Sam and Dean had called you for help and as much as you loved hunting with the boys, you knew Ketch would only show up if he was sent by the Men of Letters to recruit Sam and Dean again.

Everything had gone exactly as planned, a rarity in your line of work. When it was all over, the boys invited you back to their room. The adrenaline running through your veins from the hunt told you to accept, to let them calm and reward you after a hard hunt; but your heart wasn’t in it. You’d refused, saying that you just weren’t feeling good and said your goodbyes for the evening.

You weren’t sure why you’d done it. Even if Ketch was jealous of the boys, that was hardly your problem. He hadn’t declared himself to you, nor you to him, and you were both free to be with whomever you chose, so why did choosing to sleep with Sam and Dean feel so wrong? Maybe it was because it wasn’t fair to them. You’d only be using them and it wasn’t right. Then again, they both knew your arrangement didn’t involve any element of love, so it wasn’t like you were lying to, or cheating on, them.

Ketch had ruined you and you were sure he knew it. As much as you tried, you couldn’t get the damn man out of your head. You were turning into a junkie and you weren’t sure you had a problem with that, you only wondered if he felt the same. In all honesty, you doubted that. You were probably a game to him and nothing more; a toy maybe, he did seem to enjoy those.

Closing the door behind you, you freeze at the sound of a smooth, accented voice. “I’ve been waiting for you,” Ketch says casually.

“How the Hell did you get in here?” you ask him.

“You’re not the only one who knows how to pick a lock, Love,” Ketch replies.

“Where did you come from?” you ask him, your heart already racing with excitement. You press your back against the door, trying to keep yourself from looking too eager. Ketch lounges in an oversized chair, sipping a glass of scotch as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He was dressed in a suit rather than the hunting clothes you were used to seeing him in and just the sight of him had your core aching.

“Headquarters,” he replies, “I finished up filling out the paperwork for my last hunt and thought I’d come to you for help.”

“Oh yeah?” you purr, “Help with what?”

“Stress relief of course,” Ketch replies, “You seem to be so very good at that; and all that paperwork, well, it tends to lack the appeal of concluding a hunt that you provide.”

“Just can’t get enough of me, can you?” you tease.

“Quite,” he answers, “If you’d be so kind -”

“I just got done with a hunt myself,” you interrupt as you move to the end of your bed, taking a seat at the edge of it so that you’re sitting straight across from him, “If I knew you were here, I would’ve invited you.”

“No need,” Ketch replies with a sigh, “The Winchesters were involved.”

“So you were stalking us,” you surmise.

“Observing,” he corrects, “But yes, the Men of Letters sent me to attempt to recruit them again. When I saw you were involved in the hunt let’s just say that I became . . . distracted. I thought it best not to get involved and decided to take my frustrations out on a monster in the area. I didn’t want to make Sam and Dean jealous. They already don’t like me and if they knew the things I’ve done to you, I’m sure they’d retaliate.”

“Understandable,” you tease, “They are both very intimidating.”

“As am I,” Ketch replies as if you’d insulted him. You shrug to show him you didn’t think so, making his expression turn dark.

“So, are you going to get what you came for are we just going to talk?” you ask him.

“Perhaps I should just observe,” Ketch practically growls. He was clearly annoyed with you.

“Well, if that’s what you’re into,” you reply with a smirk. You shrug your jacket from your shoulders and Ketch watches your every move. Slowly, you undress yourself, making sure to put on a show. His eyes follow as you trail your fingers along your skin, pulling down your bra straps and pushing down your panties. “You really do like watching, don’t you?” you tease him as you spot the bulge growing in his pants.

“That very much depends on what I’m watching,” Ketch replies. He finishes off his glass of scotch and pours another. Obviously, he was going to play your game and he wasn’t planning on losing.

You move back onto your bed and lean back so that you’re supporting yourself with your hands, accentuating your breasts. Ketch’s eyes scan over your body as if he’s seeing each curve, each scar for the first time. His eyes stop on a new bruise you’d gotten from the werewolf you’d just hunted.

“You were harmed,” Ketch remarks with a hint of resentment in his tone, “And they let it happen.”

“I’m a hunter,” you shrug, “I get hurt when I’m alone, when I’m with them, and when I’m with you. Why do you care so much?”

“I don’t,” Ketch replies coldly, “It simply seems a waste for such a beautiful body to be marred by something that wasn’t created out of passion.” Why was he lying? Whenever you were harmed while hunting with him, he blamed himself and you infuriated him every time you opted to use your own first aid kit over his. Maybe he did care and just couldn’t express it. You decide to let your thoughts go for the time being.

“You mean it’s a shame to see my body marked by bruises that weren’t left by you,” you infer.

“Less eloquent, but perhaps more accurate,” Ketch concedes, “Speaking of less eloquent, the Winchesters. They invited you to their room, did they not?”

“They did,” you answer.

“And yet here you sit before me, practically begging me to fuck you. Why?” Ketch asks.

“I wouldn’t say begging,” you correct, “I’d call it enticement.” You move one hand to your breast as you speak, squeezing. At the same time, you part your legs, giving Ketch a good view of your dampening core. His eyes flick down and he wets his lips, drawing the bottom one between his teeth. “As for why I didn’t take Sam and Dean up on their offer, I was hoping to get a little alone time, but it’s obvious that isn’t going to happen, is it?” you finish. That was a lie on your part, you still couldn’t discern why you’d truly refused the boys’ offer; or maybe you just didn’t want to admit the truth.

“That depends on how you define ‘alone time,’ Love,” Ketch answers. He sips casually at his scotch as he watches your hand slide down from your breast. Despite his cool demeanor, his arousal is evident. You could tell he was fighting to keep himself under control.

“Maybe I should’ve taken them up on their offer,” you tease as you draw the tips of your fingers through your slick folds, “If I had, they’d probably be inside me already, giving me exactly what I wanted.” Ketch’s jaw clenches jealousy clearly written across his face.

“I don’t believe that,” Ketch responds, “If they were able to give you exactly what you wanted, why did you come here looking for me?”

“Excuse me, this is my room,” you point out, “You shouldn’t even be here. Like I said, I was looking for a little alone time.” You continue teasing yourself, giving yourself just enough friction to ease some of the aching between your legs.

“I can always leave if you’d prefer,” Ketch offers.

“I’m not so cruel as to send you away in the state you’re in,” you tell him.

“Yes, well,” Ketch begins, reaching down with his free hand to palm himself through his slacks. You tisk and he reluctantly pulls his hand away from himself.

“I thought you were observing, not participating,” you tease him.

“You’re making it difficult, Love,” he groans. A smirk pulls at the corner of your lips.

“Don’t worry,” you purr, “As soon as I’ve satisfied myself, I’ll make sure you’re satisfied as well.” Ketch groans, his cock twitching in his pants. He hooks two fingers into his tie, loosening it.

You draw your bottom lip between your teeth, humming as you slide one finger into yourself. Ketch grasps the arm of his chair with his free hand as he watches you finger fucking yourself. You add a second finger, curling them as you pump them in and out, slowly working yourself towards your high. Pressing the heel of your hand to your clit, you moan at the jolt of pleasure that shoots through you.

“You’re so wet,” Ketch comments, almost to himself.

“I bet you’d love to be inside me right now, wouldn’t you?” you tease him, “I bet you can imagine it too; you above me, holding my wrists back against the bed, your cock buried deep inside my tight, wet pussy.” Ketch groans in response. “Fuck, I’d love to have you inside me right now,” you continue, “You’d feel so much better than my fingers.”

“I’m sure I would,” Ketch agrees cockily. You could tell how badly he wanted to touch himself, to touch you. The thought of how badly he needs you only pushes you closer to your high.

You curl your fingers, hitting the perfect spot inside yourself. Your back arches and your toes begin to curl, your muscles tensing as you near your climax. Ketch groans words of encouragement, edging you closer and closer. You lift your hips from the bed, pressing the heel of your hand hard against your clit hard as you curl your fingers inside you.

“Fuck,” you moan, your walls fluttering around your fingers. You were close, right on the edge, and with one last curl of your fingers, you come undone. “Oh, fuck,” you moan, your walls clamping down around your fingers. Your body shudders as pleasure courses through you, the feeling intensified by the way Ketch watches you unraveling.

“My, my, Love, you are a vision,” Ketch comments, his lust filled eyes drinking you in. You smirk as you pull your fingers from yourself and stand from the bed, making your way to where Ketch sits. He places his scotch on the table beside him and takes hold of your wrist, bringing your slick fingers to his lips. His tongue swirls around the digits and you watch as he sucks your fingers clean, humming at the taste of you. “I need you, Love,” Ketch mutters, placing kisses to your knuckles, “Please.”

“Did you just say please?” you ask him. Ketch hands move to your hips, his eyes watching you carefully. You loosen his tie the rest of the way, letting it slip through your fingers and fall to the floor.

“Perhaps,” he answers, “Enjoy it because you may never hear me say that word again.” You chuckle as you sink to your knees, letting your hands slide down his chest and abdomen, the soft material of his suit beneath your fingertips. Settling yourself between his legs, you unbuckle his belt and open the front of his pants.

You flick your eyes up, watching him through your eyelashes as you free his hardened cock from its confines. Ketch’s chest rises and falls with each of his heavy breaths, his bottom lip drawn between his teeth. Leaning in, you place open mouth kisses along his length, lapping up the precum that’s leaked from his tip. You hum at the salty taste of him, sending vibrations down his length.

“Y/N” Ketch groans, his voice rough. He gathers your hair into a messy pony tail and holds it at the back of your head, giving him a better view as you tease him. You knew the more you teased him, the more he would want to get revenge later on, but seeing him like this was worth it.

The sinful groans leaving his lips spur you on. Starting at the base of his cock, you leave a long lick up the underside of his length before taking his tip between your lips. “Love,” Ketch sighs as you swirl your tongue around his tip and suck ever so slightly, giving him just a hint of what was to come. His eyes fall shut as you take him deeper into your mouth, working the underside of his cock with your tongue.

Slowly, you begin bobbing your head. Ketch’s cock twitches hard and he grunts your name. You take your time, letting him feel every little sensation. His hips lift from the chair in time with the bobbing of your head, encouraging you to take more of him into your mouth. He groans your name, his free hand grasping the arm of his chair tightly as his other hand fists tighter in your hair. Despite how tightly he holds your hair, Ketch lets you have control. Your pace slowly picks up and it seems to drive him mad. You hum around him and a string of curses fall from his lips.

“Love, if you keep going like this, I won’t be able to last much longer,” Ketch warns. Watching him through your lashes, you take him as far into your mouth as you can and hollow your cheeks as you slowly begin to pull away. When just his tip is in your mouth, you swirl your tongue around his tip and begin taking him into your mouth again. “Y/N, fucking Hell,” Ketch groans.

You lick and suck, giving him exactly what he needs to reach his peak. He grunts your name loudly as his cock pulses against your tongue, his cum spilling down your throat. Ketch praises you as you work him through his high, milking him for all he’s worth. Once he begins to recover, you pull off of him with a pop.

“Y/N,” Ketch sighs, “That was … exhilarating.” His free hand moves to cup your cheek and his thumb swipes across your bottom lip, collecting the drop of cum that had fallen there. Ketch watches as you take his thumb between your lips and suck it clean, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. His hand releases your hair and he offers it to you, helping you from the floor and guiding you to his lap.

“I’m much more fun than paperwork I hope,” you comment, fingers playing with the lapels of his suit jacket.

“Much,” Ketch replies, “But I don’t believe the fun is over yet, Love.” His hand slides down your spine, making you shiver.

“No?” you question, eyebrow raised. Reaching to the side, you grab the glass of scotch and down it in one drink. Ketch chuckles as he grabs your wrist, his fingers gently sliding along your hand until he takes the glass from you, placing it back on the table.

You squeal as he grabs you and lifts you up as he stands from the chair. Your hands fist into his suit jacket, holding onto him as he carries you to the bed. He drops you unceremoniously onto it and stands by the edge, shedding his jacket. You push yourself up onto your elbows and watch as he undresses for you, taking his time just like you knew he would.

Damn, he was gorgeous, and the fact that he barely had a scar marking his skin never ceased to amaze you. He watches the way you react to him, obviously amused by what he does to you. You rub your thighs together, wetting your lips as you imagine all the things you wanted from him. Ketch sheds his last piece of clothing before instructing you to move to the top of the bed.

“Arthur, I need you,” you demand more than plead, extending your hand to him.

“I don’t believe I’ll ever tire of hearing you say that,” Ketch tells you as he crawls into the bed.

“Shut up,” you laugh.

“It’s true, Love,” Ketch replies as he parts your legs and settles between them, “I very much enjoy hearing you beg for me.”

“I’m not begging,” you remind him, “Simply enticing.”

“Yes, well, you’re doing a very good job at it,” Ketch tells you between placing kisses to your thighs, “You’re going to feel so good, you always do.”

“Is that why you keep coming back?” you ask him. Ketch simply chuckles and continues to tease you, placing kisses everywhere except where you wanted him to. One of his hands slides up your body and cups your breast, squeezing roughly. “You’re such an asshole,” you complain, squirming beneath his touch.

“So I’ve been told,” Ketch replies. He sinks his teeth into the skin of your thigh, hard enough to leave a mark. “How did you get these?” Ketch asks, his fingertips brushing the light bruises on your thigh. He seemed very concerned with your bruises, almost to the point of showing some sort of affection, though you were sure he’d never admit to feeling anything for you and you weren’t sure you even wanted him to.

“A hunt about a week ago,” you answer.

“One that involved Sam and Dean, I’m sure,” Ketch grumbles.

“It was,” you tell him, “But the bruises didn’t come from them if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Glad to hear it,” Ketch replies. He continues placing kisses up your thighs, getting closer and closer to where you needed him.

“Really, you’d rather me be hurt by a monster than have love marks?” you ask him.

“That isn’t what I said,” Ketch tells you, “And it wasn’t what I meant.”

“Oh? And what did you mean?” you ask him. Ketch looks up at you from between your legs, his eyes filled with lust. His lips were so close to your clit that they ghost over the sensitive bundle of nerves as he talks.

“You said it yourself, I prefer any marks on your body to be placed there by me,” Ketch answers.

“You’re not jealous of Sam and Dean again are you?” you tease him, reaching down to card your hand through his hair.

“No,” he answers, a little too defensively.

“Really? Because from where I lie, it looks like -” you’re interrupted when Ketch leaves a long lick up your entrance, sucking your clit between his lips at the end. You fist your hand in his hair, making him groan against you. “Arthur,” you purr as the vibrations travel straight to your core.

“You were saying?” Ketch asks smugly.

“You’re such an asshole,” you repeat. Ketch grins before returning his attention to your pussy, licking and sucking at your folds. You tug his hair, begging him for more. His hand moves down to your hip, holding you still as he eats you out. Ketch’s other hand moves from your breast to find your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours; it was oddly loving and it was something you’d never experienced with him before.

“Love,” Ketch groans against you. He nudges your clit with his nose and teases his tongue between your folds. You try to buck your hips towards his mouth, but he holds you firmly in place, only allowing you to have the sensations he was willing to give.

“Arthur,” you moan, squeezing his hand as he swirls his tongue against your walls. Ketch draws one of your legs over his shoulder, giving him a better angle. Pressure begins to build in your stomach as he brings you closer to your climax. Your back arches as he eases his tongue in and out of you, swirling it inside you. He works you higher and higher until your walls are fluttering around his tongue.

“You’re so close, aren’t you, Love?” he asks, pulling away. He places teasing kisses against your pussy lips between his words.

“Yes, Ketch, please,” you moan.

“See?” Ketch asks, obviously pleased with himself, “There’s the begging I love to hear.”

“I hate you,” you grumble.

“No you don’t,” Ketch retorts. You’re about to reply, but Ketch moves his hand from your hip and easily slides two fingers inside you.

“Oh, Ketch,” you moan, squirming as he curls his fingers inside you. Ketch sucks your clit between his lips again, flicking the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue. His hips rock against the bed as he seeks friction for himself.

His fingers pump in and out of you, the pressure in your stomach reaching the breaking point. You rock your hips towards him, grinding yourself against his mouth and pushing his fingers deeper inside you. Your toes begin to curl against the sheets and the skin of Ketch’s back. Ketch only chuckles as you writhe, your back arching; the vibrations set you on edge.

“Arthur!” you moan loudly as you reach your high, your walls squeezing his fingers. Ketch pulls his fingers from you and replaces them with his tongue, working you through your high and lapping up everything you have to give him. You squeeze his hand as pleasure crashes over you.

When he looks up, his eyes are dark. He shrugs your leg from your shoulder and you watch as he cleans his chin of your juices and takes his fingers between his lips, humming as he sucks them clean. You reach out for him as he makes his way above you, his body caging you beneath him.

“You don’t hate me,” Ketch repeats, kissing your neck, “Do you?”

“Mmm, maybe just a little,” you hum, tilting your head to the side in order to give him better access.

“I suppose I can live with that,” Ketch says, his kisses becoming rougher. He keeps hold of your hand and presses it back against the pillow beside your head. His other hand moves to caress your cheek before sliding to the nape of your neck, his fingers playing with your hair.

“Arthur?” you whisper, carding your free hand through his hair.

“Yes, Love?” he asks, propping himself above you. You pull him down to you, capturing his lips. The taste of you still lingers on his tongue. Ketch breaks the kiss, smiling almost to himself before resuming it. He repositions himself above you and lines himself up with your entrance. You drag your fingers along his scalp and down his back as you wrap a leg around his waist, drawing him closer.

You moan as Ketch slides into you, filling you completely, and he sighs along with you. Ketch never breaks the kiss as he begins moving inside you. You dig your nails into his shoulder as he pumps in and out of you, slow and easy. It was different than normal, like something about him had changed. He wasn’t rough or demanding. It was like he was taking his time with you, almost showing you that he was capable of feeling something. You’d never experienced anything like this from him.

Sliding your hand up his back and into his hair again, you break the kiss and nestle your face into the crook of his neck. He groans as you begin kissing his neck, his hand squeezing yours tighter. His body moves against yours so easily and the way he moves inside you is nothing less than perfection. He slides against your g-spot with each easy thrust, quickly guiding you towards your third high. Ketch nudges his nose against your cheek and presses a gentle kiss to the skin.

“Arthur,” you moan, your leg tightening around his waist as you try to draw him in deeper. Ketch’s hand fists in your hair and he buries his face into the crook of your neck, sucking a mark onto the skin. Your stomach twists and knots, pressure building yet again.

“Y/N, Love,” he groans against your skin. He throbs inside you, the feeling only drawing you closer to your high. His lips brush the shell of your ear, soft groans and whispers of praise falling from his lips. You dig your nails into his shoulder, desperately trying to hold on as you teeter on the edge of climax. “Y/N, I need to feel you cum for me,” Ketch requests, his rhythm becoming erratic. Your walls tighten around him and flutter, making him groan.

“Arthur, I … oh, fuck,” you moan. Your third climax washes over you, your body shuddering beneath his. Ketch groans your name as you come around him. You squeeze his hand tight and try to pull him as close as you can as if you couldn’t have him close enough. The feeling of you coming undone is enough to draw him over the edge along with you.

“Y/N,” Ketch grunts, his cock pulsing as he spills himself inside you. His lips capture yours as you both help each other through your highs, each of you prolonging the other’s orgasm. When Ketch begins to still, he breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against yours. “Y/N, Love,” Ketch whispers, his hand caressing your cheek. 

“Was that the stress relief you needed?” you ask him, tracing random patterns up and down his back with your fingertips.

“It was exactly what I needed,” Ketch tells you, “And hopefully what you needed as well.” You hum in affirmation, pressing your lips to his. Ketch pulls himself from you and settles at your side, pulling the sheets up so that they cover you and one of his legs, the other one still out of the sheets.

You turn to your side and prop yourself up on your elbow, looking down at him. “Arthur?” you begin.

“Yes, Love?” he asks, his hand sliding down your side and moving to rest on your hip. He looks up at you, waiting for you to continue.

“This … whatever this is between us, it’s just sex, right?” you ask him, “That’s all we mean to each other, isn’t it?” Your relationship had been built on sex and the need for release after a hunt, but something had changed and you needed to know what it was. Ketch hesitates to answer, his expression changing.

“Yes, of course,” Ketch answers, but his tone falters, “Sex and nothing more. I’m not built for serious relationships.” It was almost like he was choking on his words and he smiles halfheartedly as he avoids meeting your gaze.

“Good,” you reply, though you weren’t sure he meant what he said, “Neither am I.” You snuggle up against him and rest your head against his chest, his arms wrapping around you. Ketch hums at your statement, but if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked almost hurt.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Selfish Intentions 5’ This series keeps getting better and better! And I believe Arthur is beginning to FEEL actual emotions for the reader! Here comes the angst! Can’t wait for more! :) AND Oh my Chuck! Selfish intentions is getting so good. Please don’t stop there! AND I love “secretly in love Ketch” Please write another part to selfish intentions! I’d love you forever (I already do, but still <3)

Warnings: Language, smut

Fic:

When you woke, Ketch was gone. He’d never done that before, left in the middle of the night while you were asleep. Maybe he’d gotten a call from Mick. Then again, he had acted strange last night. Maybe you really had found a way to hurt a man without feelings.

“Y/N, wake up!” you hear Dean shout as he bangs on the door. You slip from the bed, grabbing your clothes from the floor and pulling them on as you make your way to the door.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, yawning.

“Late night?” Dean teases you, “I thought you weren’t feeling good.”

“Shut up,” you answer, “And the rude awakening didn’t help. What do you need?”

“That werewolf we ganked, it wasn’t the only one here,” Dean answers, “Sam thinks it had a pack because when we woke up this morning, we heard about a killing spree that happened last night.”

“A killing spree?” you question, “And you’re sure it was werewolves?” Somewhere in the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but wonder if Ketch was the real monster. If you’d done something to set him off last night, maybe he’d left and taken his frustration out on innocent people. You didn’t really know the man and you weren’t sure what he was capable of. As soon as you let the thought cross your mind, you hated yourself for it. Surely he wasn’t that terrible.

“Pretty sure,” Dean answers, “Sam and I were going to go talk to some people and see if we can figure out what’s going on. Do you want to come with us?”

“Yeah,” you answer, “Just give me a while to get cleaned up.”

“Sam and I are heading out in an hour,” Dean tells you.

“I’ll be there,” you tell him. Dean nods and you close the door before heading to the shower. You let your clothes slide from your body and as much as you try not to, you can’t keep from imagining Ketch’s hands on you. The way he had been last night, it didn’t make any sense. A man like that couldn’t actually have feelings for you; but the look he gave you, it was so full of longing and pain.

Stepping under the stream of water, you imagine Ketch behind you; his arms wrapped around your waist and his lips pressing kisses to your neck. You try to get the thoughts of him out of your head as you wet your hair. Why was it so difficult? It wasn’t like you loved him, or did you? You certainly cared about him, maybe not the way you cared about Sam and Dean, but perhaps the way you cared about someone at the beginning of a friendship. In the beginning, he was just some guy you screwed from time to time because you both needed someone. Was that still all he was? Did he see it that way, or did he see something more? No, he couldn’t. You were his toy and nothing else.

The hour passes and you find it impossible to stop thinking. You put on your high heeled shoes and adjust the gun holster at your waist before leaving your room. Sam and Dean are waiting for you by the Impala, both of them smiling as they see you.

“Wow, you two clean up nice,” you tease them.

“So do you,” Sam answers.

“Are we ready to go?” you ask. Walking up to Dean, you adjust his tie playfully.

“Almost,” Dean answers, “We’re, um, waiting on someone.”

“Not your mother again, I hope,” you sigh.

“No, not her,” Sam answers, “We don’t know how many werewolves we’re dealing with and we thought we could use some extra backup.”

“Backup meaning…?” you let your words trail off.

“The Men of Letters,” Dean answers, “I don’t necessarily like the idea, and I’m sure you don’t either, but you don’t have to worry. Just because we work with them on hunt here or there doesn’t mean we’re on their side.”

“How long have you been working with them?” you ask.

“A while,” Sam answers. Ketch had never mentioned anything about it, you wondered why.

“They’re a bunch of assholes, but they can be useful,” Dean adds, “Speaking of assholes, there he is.” The sound of Ketch’s bike gets louder as he nears the parking lot. He pulls into an empty spot beside the Impala and turns off the engine before pulling off his helmet.

“I apologize for being late,” Ketch begins, “Your call was late notice and I had other matters to attend to.”

“Glad you could make it,” Dean says sarcastically.

“It’s nice to see you too, Dean,” Ketch sighs before adding, “Sam.” He looks to you last, “Y/N, it’s nice to see you as well.”

“Arthur,” you answer with a nod.

“You two are on a first name basis?” Sam questions, looking between you and Ketch.

“I didn’t even know you two had met,” Dean says, a look of confusion written across his face.

“We’ve hunted together once or twice,” you shrug, “Like you said, the Men of Letters are useful once in a while.”

“It’s been more than once or twice,” Ketch replies curtly. You weren’t sure if he was angry with you or if he was trying to get under the boys’ skin.

“Seriously?” Dean asks, clearly irritated by the thought.

“Yes, well, as Y/N said, she found me useful. In order to be useful now, it might be helpful to tell me what I’m doing here,” Ketch interrupts, “Looking at the three of you, I feel rather underdressed. Had I know we were playing MI5, I would’ve dressed in a suit rather than my hunting attire.”

“MI5 bullshit,” you hear Dean mutter.

“We need to interrogate any witnesses,” Sam answers, “Dean and I thought it would go faster if we split up into two teams. We can cover more ground faster.”

“I suppose that means I’ll be teaming up with Y/N,” Ketch surmises, “She and I make a good team after all.”

“The Hell you do,” Dean replies, “Y/N’s our friend and you’re not going anywhere alone with her.”

“I’ve been alone with Y/N plenty of times and she’s never complained before,” Ketch answers.

“Maybe Y/N’s just too polite to tell you how creepy you are,” Dean answers.

“I see you’re not polite,” Ketch replies as if he’s uninterested in the conversation.

“Guys, we’ve got better things to do than fight,” Sam says, trying to break up the argument.

“You know what? I’m not polite,” Dean continues, completely ignoring Sam, “I’m also not polite enough to pretend that I like the fact that you’re standing here right now. In my opinion, we don’t need your help.”

“Then why call Mick?” Ketch asks.

“It was Sam’s idea and frankly I’m regretting it,” Dean answers.

“Look, you don’t have to work together,” Sam offers, “You can come with me and Dean can go with Y/N.”

“As I said, Y/N and I make a good team,” Ketch replies, “If I’m going to be working with one of you, I prefer to have her watching my back.”

“And like I said, Y/N’s not going anywhere with you,” Dean spits back.

“Y/N is standing right here. She’s a big girl and she can make her own choices,” you interject, “Dean, you go with Sam. I can handle Ketch.” You had a few questions for him and you weren’t going to pass up this opportunity to ask him before he disappeared again.

“You really want to work with him over me?” Dean asks you.

“No,” you reply, not wanting to hurt his feelings, “But I don’t trust him around you guys either. He’s already got your mom working with him so I’m sure he’s got some plan to recruit you two as well.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asks, he steps beside you and whispers in your ear, “It might not be safe.”

“I’ll be fine,” you answer, “I’ve worked with him before and I can take care of myself. Besides, he knows that if anything happens to me, he’ll have the two of you to answer to.”

“You heard her,” Dean says with a smirk, “And she’s not wrong.”

“So, who do we need to talk to?” you ask.

“I guess Dean and I will go talk to the coroner,” Sam answers, “Maybe you and Ketch could start with the diner where one of the murders took place. See if they have any witnesses or footage that could help.”

“I can do that,” you reply, “We’ll meet up with you guys later, alright?”

“See you later,” Sam answers, “Be careful.”

“Always am,” you answer. Sam presses a kiss to your cheek and Ketch’s eyes narrow.

“If he so much as looks at you the wrong way, all you have to do is call me,” Dean tells you, “I’ll kick his ass.” You laugh as Dean pulls you to him and presses a kiss to your forehead. The action only seems to irritate Ketch further.

“Call me if you guys find anything,” you tell them as you see them off.

“Finally,” Ketch sighs, “I thought they’d never leave.”

“Speaking of leaving, where did you go last night?” you ask him, getting straight to the point.

“Back to my hotel room,” he answers, more interested in looking at his helmet than at you, “You got what you wanted and there was no point in me staying any longer, so I left.”

“Did I do something to hurt you?” you ask.

“No, why would you think that?” he asks you in return.

“The way you’re acting, I don’t get it,” you answer.

“I’m not ‘acting,’” Ketch tells you, “Don’t we have a diner to get to?”

“Whatever,” you sigh, “Let’s go.”

“Hop on,” Ketch tells you nodding to the spot on his bike behind him.

“In this skirt?” you scoff, “I don’t think so, I’m driving.” Turning, you head towards your car. “Are you coming or not?” you shout over your shoulder. You unlock your doors and get into the driver’s seat, buckling your seatbelt as you wait for Ketch to join you. Ketch gets into the passenger’s seat beside you.

“Are you angry with me?” he asks, closing the door behind him. The question was almost pained. What did he want from you? He sits his backpack in his lap and plays with the zipper, avoiding your gaze.

“Yeah, you know what? I am,” you tell him. You bring your car to life and pull out of the space.

“For what?” he asks, “For giving you exactly what you wanted? Sex and nothing more, right?”

“That’s what you wanted too,” you tell him, “You said so yourself.”

“Yes, well, then nothing’s changed has it?” he asks.

“Yes it has,” you retort, “You’re different. Whatever that was last night, you’ve never acted like that and you’ve never snuck out in the middle of the night.”

“I apologize that important business came up,” Ketch remarks.

“Apologize all you want,” you say, “It doesn’t change the fact that you’re an asshole.”

“If I’m such an arsehole, then why did you sleep with me that first night?” Ketch asks angrily.

“That’s a good question.” you tell him, “I guess I was just bored.” You were becoming harsher than you had intended.

Ketch laughs to himself and shakes his head. “That’s all I am,” Ketch says softly, “Relief from boredom.”

“Well what am I to you?” you ask him.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he tells you.

“Yeah? Try me,” you press. He doesn’t answer and instead looks out the window. You can see his reflection in the glass and you knew that somehow you’d hurt him. This man who acted as if he never cared for a thing in his life other than himself sat beside you now, obviously in pain and it was all your fault. How had you managed to hurt him so badly?

Pulling into the diner’s parking lot, you find an empty space and turn off your engine. Turning in your seat, you face him, waiting for him to explain. “Arthur,” you press, “I need you to explain.”

“I’m not sure I can. Besides we have a pack of werewolves to kill,” Ketch replies, “We shouldn’t put it off.”

“Fine,” you give up. Maybe he didn’t think you’d understand, or maybe he just didn’t want you to understand. Either way, he was right. You had other things to focus on. “Let’s go,” you sigh, getting out of the car.

***

Much to your dismay, the cameras at the diner were out of order and the owner really didn’t know much. You wound up driving from place to place with Ketch and each destination seemed to hold less information than the last. Hopefully Sam and Dean had found something.

The longer you drive, the more irritated you become. It was getting dark and Ketch had hardly said a word to you since your fight earlier in the day. Anything he did say was abrupt and almost spiteful. The way he looked at you only made things worse. It was like he was staring straight into your soul and trying to figure out your every thought. You wished you could do the same to him, figure out what had him acting this way.

Suddenly, you swerve the car and pull to the side of the rural dirt road. “Bloody Hell!” he exclaims, holding onto the armrest as you come to a rough stop.

“What do you want?” you ask angrily as you cut the engine. You unbuckle yourself so that you can turn to face him.

“I don’t want anything,” he tells you.

“Really?” you question, “Because you keep staring at me like you want something.”

“Fine, what I want is to understand you,” Ketch tells you.

“I’m a hunter, I’m friends with the Winchesters and an angel, and Hell, I’m even friends with a demon,” you answer, “Other than that, I’m completely alone. I’ve been all across the country and I’ve saved lives. Every day I do the best I can and I try to do some good in this world. That’s who I am, what else do you need to understand?”

“Nothing,” Ketch answers, “You’ve just told me everything I need to know and, really, it doesn’t matter.”

“Obviously it does,” you reply, “If you’d just talk to me, maybe I could help, or explain, or do whatever it is that you need me to do.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Ketch tells you, “You’ve made it painfully clear for me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you admit, “You’re so frustrating. All you have to do is talk to me.”

“I can’t,” you ask him.

“And why not?” you press.

“If you only knew …” he lets his words trail off, “Nevermind. Like I said, it doesn’t matter.” He smiles sadly and looks away from you.

“Arthur,” you say softly, cupping his cheek and bringing his gaze back to yours, “It does matter, and I want to understand, I really do, but in order for me to do that I need you to talk to me.”

“You’re good to me,” Ketch replies, “And kind. Not many people are.”

“Well, then, they’re assholes,” you tell him, making him laugh half heartedly.

“But you’re not,” he continues, “You said you didn’t have anyone besides the Winchesters, your angel, and some God awful demon, but you do.”

“Are you referring to yourself?” you ask him, unsure where he was really going with this.

“I’m here aren’t I?” he asks, “I know I’ve let you down in the past, and I will never forgive myself for it, but I’m here and I …”

“You what?” you ask him, needing to hear the end of the sentence.

“I know that sex is all we mean to each other, but you’re wellbeing is a priority and I would hate to see you hurt because you didn’t think you could rely on me or count me as a friend,” he answers. Somehow that wasn’t the answer you’d been expecting, but it was one you were glad to hear nonetheless.

“Wow, you really do care,” you tease him, “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Neither did I,” he admits.

“That’s why you’ve been acting so weird?” you question, “You thought we weren’t friends?”

“I’m not Sam or Dean,” he replies, “I didn’t think you’d want to call someone like me a friend.”

“Well, I do,” you tell him. As odd as it seemed, he was becoming your friend. When you first met him, you would never have thought it was possible. “Arthur, if you wanted to be my friend with benefits, all you had to do was ask,” you add teasingly.

“Yes, well, seeing as you already have that arrangement with the Winchesters, I wasn’t sure you wanted to take on another,” he tells you. You can hear the teasing tone returning to his voice.

“Shut up,” you laugh, pushing his shoulder playfully before your tone becomes more serious, “Arthur, when I said all we had between us was sex, I didn’t mean that I don’t care about you.”

“Do you?” he asks, “Care about me, I mean?”

“Of course I do,” you tell him, “We’ve hunted together, watched each other’s backs, and despite the numerous times you’ve tried to recruit me into your organization, I enjoy spending time with you. I’d care if you were hurt, or worse, and I don’t ever want to see that happen.”

“You’re different from most people,” Ketch tells you.

“Thanks?” you chuckle.

“I mean it as a compliment,” he tells you, “Most people either see me as a weapon, something to be used, or don’t see me at all, but you, you’re something else all together.”

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“For what, Darling?” he asks. Reaching down, you unbuckle his seat belt before grabbing his backpack and placing it in the back seat.

“I’m sorry that people don’t see you for what you really are,” you tell him as you move to his lap.

“And what am I?” he presses. His hands instinctively move to your hips and fist lightly into the material of your skirt.

“A decent man who deserves to be treated better than he is,” you tell him, “The Men of Letters don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t ever join them,” Ketch says, “They don’t deserve you either. Frankly neither do I.”

“Don’t say that,” you demand, “I don’t care what you say about the Men of Letters, but don’t ever say that about yourself.” You cup his face between your hands and run your thumbs along his cheekbones.

“Yes, ma'am,” he answers with a half hearted smile.

“Are we done fighting?” you ask him.

“Yes,” he answers, “I think so.”

“Good,” you whisper, “Because I hated it.”

“So did I,” he admits. One of his hands comes up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear before moving to cup the nape of your neck. You let him pull you into a kiss, his lips moving gently against yours.

You’d completely misjudged him. There was a side to him that he hid from the world. Every emotion, every feeling he had ever felt, had been locked away and pushed deep down so that no one could ever use them against him. Was that just him, or had the Men of Letters made him this way? What had happened to him in the past that made him feel the need to protect himself in this way?

At the same time, you’d also misjudged yourself. You were beginning to care for a man you thought you despised. Being with him was changing you, making you feel things you didn’t know you were capable of. As a hunter, one night stands and casual hookups were the norm. You never wanted anything more, but now here you were, wanting Arthur and no one else, not even your Winchesters.

Ketch’s arm slides around your waist, pulling you tighter to him. You break the kiss and begin leaving kisses along his jaw and down his neck. “If Sam and Dean were to drive by now, they would kill me,” Ketch remarks.

“Sam and Dean are just going to have to get past the fact that they aren’t my only friends and that I enjoy hunting with you,” you answer between kisses.

“It’s not just us hunting together that they have to get past, Darling,” Ketch reminds you.

“I’m sure they’d be jealous,” you shrug, “But I feel the same way about you that I feel about them. They’d understand that eventually.” Ketch huffs before bringing your lips back to his in a consuming kiss. You weren’t even sure that you felt the same way about Ketch that you felt about the Winchesters, but Ketch seemed to believe you nonetheless.

You let your hands run down his chest, taking hold of the zipper of his jacket and pulling it down. One of Ketch’s hands fists in your hair and he tugs so that your head is tilted to the side. His lips leave rough kisses against the delicate skin, making you moan. His free hand tugs at your jacket and you pull your hands from him, tearing the jacket from you.

Once the material is gone, Ketch’s hand moves down to your thigh. His callused fingertips trail along the smooth skin, pressing your skirt higher. “Arthur,” you moan, fisting your hands into his hair as his hand moves higher on your thigh. You slip one of your hands beneath the hem of his shirt, fingertips exploring his smooth skin.

“Yes, Darling?” Ketch asks.

“I need you,” you tell him. The words make him smile and you can’t stop yourself from smiling in return. As soon as you had said it, you knew you meant more than just that you needed him now, in this way.

“I need you too,” he says softly, making you wonder about the meaning behind his words and whether or not it was similar to your own meaning. His fingers play with your hair and trace gentle patterns against the skin of your thigh.

Bringing his lips to yours again, you reach down between you and open the front of his jeans. Ketch groans as you reach into his boxers and free his hardening length. He grows harder as you stroke him. His hands grip you tighter as you work him, his jaw clenching as his eyes fall shut.

“I want you,” Ketch groans, shifting in his seat.

“Say please,” you whisper teasingly in his ear.

Pulling back, you watch him, waiting for him to say the word. Ketch’s eyes open, his gaze capturing yours. They’re filled with lust and longing. You let your fingertips brush his length, teasing him. He draws his bottom lip between his teeth, trying not to beg, but you can tell he’s giving in.

“Y/N, please,” he begs, “I need you.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever grow tired of hearing you beg for me,” you tease him, mimicking his words from last night.

“Please,” he repeats. His hips lift from the seat, trying to gain more friction, but you refuse to let him have it.

Pulling your hand away from him, you reach down between your legs and push your panties to the side. Ketch shifts beneath you, practically squirming as he impatiently waits for you to give him what he needs. You capture his lips again as you line him up with your entrance, sinking down onto him slowly.

“Y/N, Darling,” Ketch groans against your lips as you take him inside you. His hands grasp at you, holding you tightly like he was afraid of letting go. You kiss him gently as you begin to move, slow and easy, sliding him in and out of you.

You place one hand on the seat behind his shoulder for support and place the other on the nape of his neck. Your fingers play with his hair before fisting into it. Ketch’s hands find their way to your hips. He simply rests them there at first, but soon begins guiding you into a faster pace. You bring his lips to yours, kissing him deeply as you ride him.

Ketch groans against your lips as he twitches in you. You swivel your hips as you move, giving you both the friction you need and it makes you both moan and groan. Pressure begins to build within you as your stomach twists and knots. Every move of your hips has Ketch sliding against your g-spot. Ketch practically has you bouncing in his lap, both of you nearing your highs.

Your kisses become sloppy as your orgasm mounts. You fist your hand tighter into his hair, your other hand grasping the seat until your knuckles turn white as your walls pull tight around his throbbing cock. “Arthur,” you moan, right on the verge of climax. Ketch’s hips lift from the seat, driving him deep inside you as he chases his high and brings you to yours.

You cry out his name as you come undone around him. Your body shudders as pleasure courses through you, the pressure in your stomach finally releasing. Ketch continues to move beneath you and it isn’t long before he follows you into the abyss. “Y/N,” he grunts as he spills himself inside you. Ketch’s body quakes as his cock pulses. His arms slide around your waist and hold you close as you both ride out your highs.

“Arthur,” you sigh contentedly as you slump against him. You ear rests against his chest and the rhythm of the beating of his heart matches your own, both racing.

You stay like that for a long while, wrapped up in his arms. His hands card soothingly through your hair and trace up and down your spine. “Y/N?” Ketch asks softly, only continuing when you hum in acknowledgement, “Do you want me the same way you want the Winchesters?”

“I - I don’t know,” you answer, “I haven’t really thought about it before, but I guess I do. Why?”

“No reason,” he answers, “I’m simply curious.” There’s a long pause as you think over what to say next, the beating of his heart and the sound of his steady breaths filling your ears.

“When this hunt is over, don’t go back to headquarters right away,” you tell him, finally breaking the silence, “I want you to stay with me.”

“I have to go wherever the Men of Letters send me,” Ketch tells you.

“Be a little rebellious,” you urge him, “Who says you can’t have a little vacation? If you have to, tell them you’re close to recruiting me and that you need a few more days.”

“You really want me to stay?” he questions, cupping your cheek and moving you away from him so that he can look you in the eye.

“Yes,” you answer, “I do.” Your words make him smile a true, genuine smile unlike the saddened half-hearted smiles or the irritating smirks you’d seen him wear before. There was a side to him that he kept hidden from the world, but for just a moment, you were able to see it.

“Then I’ll stay for as long as I can,” he replies before capturing your lips in a gentle kiss.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: The reader shares one of her hunting stories and Ketch opens up, sharing pieces of himself he never thought he’d share with anyone.

Warnings: angst, mentions of abuse, mentions of reader’s death/torture, no smut in this part

Fic:

“One time I died and went to Hell,” you tell him, trying to one up his hunting stories.

“Bullshit,” Ketch challenges.

“I’m serious,” you insist, “Remember how I said I was friends with a demon? Well, that’s how I met him.”

“Then how are you alive?” Ketch asks skeptically.

“After all the shit you’ve seen, you don’t believe I could claw my way out of Hell?” you ask in return. Arthur raises his eyebrow. “Fine, what really happened was I went to Hell and was being tortured by some demon or other. It just so happened that Crowley, the demon who was vying for the title ‘King of Hell’ knew I was there and what I could do. We made a deal and he let me out.”

“What sort of deal?” Ketch asks.

“It’s not like I sold my soul or anything,” you assure him.

“Sex then?” Ketch asks.

“Why is that the first place your brain goes?” you ask him.

“I didn’t mean …” he begins, regretting the question. You grin as you watch him try to backtrack.

“Just because I happen to sleep with you and the Winchesters doesn’t mean I sleep with every guy I meet,” you tell him, “No, I killed a few demons for him and he let me out of Hell. We’re friends now.”

“I don’t think that you sleep with every man you meet,” Arthur tells you as a form of apology for what he’d just said.

“Only the ones I really like,” you tease, placing a kiss to his cheek. He gives you a half smile, but it quickly fades. Ketch falls silent and his gaze becomes distant. “What’s wrong?” you ask him, “Did I say something?” Arthur doesn’t answer right away.

“Y/N, why do you care about me?” Ketch asks you as he plays nervously with the sheets. The topic hadn’t come up since the fight and you wondered why he was bringing it up now. Rolling onto your stomach, you prop yourself up on your elbows so that you hover over him.

“Because you’re my friend,” you tell him like you’d told him before, “And I like spending time with you.”

“There’s so much about me that you don’t know,” Ketch tells you, “Things you wouldn’t want to know; and if you knew them, you wouldn’t care for me at all.”

“I highly doubt that,” you tell him, but Arthur doesn’t believe you. He just shakes his head in disbelief. “If there’s so much I don’t know, then tell me something,” you insist, “Tell me a secret that you think I wouldn’t want to hear.” Arthur is obviously reluctant. “Please,” you request, caressing his cheek gently.

“You’re the only person who’s ever even claimed to care about me,” Arthur replies, avoiding your gaze.

“Arthur, that can’t be true,” you try to protest.

“Oh, but it is,” he corrects, “I grew up at Kendricks, a school where they train children to become Men of Letters. Every child there was taken from the streets or from an orphanage, but not me.”

“What do you mean?” you ask him.

“I was abandoned, left on the doorstep of the school before I was even old enough to remember my parents’ faces,” Arthur answers, “My parents didn’t want me and Dr. Hess, the headmistress, made sure everyone knew it.”

“Arthur, I’m so sorry,” you whisper as you cup his cheek gently, “But just because they gave you up doesn’t mean they didn’t care. Maybe there was a reason.” His gaze is cast away, distant.

“They could’ve put me in an orphanage,” Arthur replies, “But they didn’t. They knew what happened to the children at Kendricks and they still left me there.”

“Arthur, maybe they didn’t -” you try to say, but Ketch stops you.

“They knew,” Ketch says, “It was where they grew up, and yet they condemned me to the life they led, not caring what it would cost me.”

“Arthur, I -” you begin, unsure what you could say to make this better.

“I was the son that not even a mother could love,” Arthur continues, “But I did everything I could to try and impress Dr. Hess. The worse she treated me, the harder I tried. I followed instructions, learned to fight, to kill. I didn’t even protest when they injected me with poisons that altered my mind. I pushed myself and strived to follow the code, no matter what the cost, even when that meant taking the life of the only person I ever considered a friend. I remember the warmth of his blood on my hands and how happy I was to receive the praise of Dr. Hess, if only for a brief moment. That’s how broken I was, how broken I still am. I rejoiced in the death of another child because it brought me a few moments of praise. How could you care about a man like that?”

“T-that wasn’t your fault,” you try to defend him, shocked by what you were hearing.

“It was my fault, Y/N,” he corrects you, “I let them break me and mold me into a monster; I wanted them to. Even with my cooperation, they treated me worse than any child there and yet I didn’t run. I didn’t try to get away.”

“How could they treat you like that?” you question on the brink of tears. If he was willing to tell you this, what was he still hiding? You wished there was something you could do to fix this, but you knew that was impossible.

“Because they’re monsters,” Arthur answers, “Just like me. So I’ll ask you again, why do you care about me?”

“You’re not a monster,” you tell him, “The things they did to you, the things they forced you to do, that was their fault, not yours. You were a child and they wronged you. I care about you because you’re a good man. Maybe you can’t see it but I can. You deserve better.”

“I don’t understand you,” Arthur admits.

“You don’t have to,” you tell him, “But you need to know that I do care about you.”

“I’m expendable and worthless, and I was made to feel it every day of my pathetic waste of a life,” Arthur finishes. Your heart ached for him, but you understood now.

It made sense why he’d come off as cold and unfeeling when you’d first met him. It also made sense why he couldn’t believe you cared. Hell, it even explained why he’d acted so childlike during the fight you’d had. All he ever wanted was a sense of approval and for someone to truly care about him, and all he ever received was abuse. A boy who was abused every day of his life had to build up armor in order to protect himself and it resulted in the man you’d first though Arthur to be.

“Arthur,” you say gently, “You are not expendable and you are not worthless, not to me.”

“You’re the only one who could even remotely make me believe that,” Ketch tells you. You place a kiss to his cheek before laying your head against his chest and snuggling up against him. You clung to him, wanting nothing more than to protect him from the world he’d grown up in. Arthur wraps his arms around you and holds you close as well, almost like he never wanted to let you go.

“Well it’s true,” you tell him, “And anyone who says otherwise is a liar.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: The reader really isn’t sure how she feels about Arthur, but she decides to break things off with the Winchesters in order to give herself the chance to find out.

Warnings: Smut, threesome, anal, language

Fic:

After everything Arthur had confessed to you, you wanted to protect him. You tried to keep him away from the British Men of Letters for as long as you possibly could, making every excuse you could think of to keep him out of their clutches. Ultimately, however, they called him back and he couldn’t refuse them any longer. Every second he was in the compound, you couldn’t help but wonder what they were doing to him. Could they possibly break his mind any further than they already had? You were glad you hadn’t agreed to join these monsters, but you wished you could be there with Arthur and even though you told him that, he refused to take you with him. If you couldn’t fix the wrongdoings that had been committed against him in the past, you wanted to protect him from any further harm. The only problem was Arthur’s refusal to let you do what you’d set your mind on.

“Y/N, is everything alright?” Dean asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. Since Arthur had been recalled for only God knew how long, you decided to go on a hunt with the Winchesters. You had hoped that a hunt would take your mind off of things for a while, but it hadn’t done you any good.

“Yeah,” you answer vaguely, “I’m just thinking.” Dean reaches across the table and takes your hand in his, squeezing gently.

“You’ve seemed distracted ever since you got here,” Sam adds, “Is there anything we could do to help?”

“You could always distract me from the thing that’s distracting me,” you tease him, trying to push your thoughts to the back of your mind. Even though your heart wasn’t completely in it, a distraction like this might do you some good.

“I hope you’re extending that offer to both of us,” Dean says with a grin.

“Of course, Winchester,” you tell him, pushing his leg playfully under the table with the tip of your toe.

“Besides, I think we’ve done about as much research as we can on this hunt,” you add, “I think we all need a little break.” Pushing your chair away from the table, you stand and shrug your jacket from your shoulders.

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Dean replies, rushing out of his seat and chasing after you as you make your way to the bed. You laugh as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you back against him, pressing playful kisses against your neck.

Sam moved to stand in front of you only seconds later. He cups your face between his hands and captures your lips. You close your eyes and thoughts of Arthur instantly flood your mind.

Keeping your eyes closed, you imagine it’s Arthur’s hands exploring your body as the boys remove your clothing piece by piece. You run your hands through their hair, down their chests, and even though you know they aren’t Arthur, your mind keeps going back to him. You can feel his lips on you, the thought driving you mad with need. Two sets of hands grasp at your body, knead your breasts, tug at your hair, but the sensations seem to meld together as you imagine yourself with Arthur. A hand slides down your body and the fingers tease your wet folds. You can almost hear the groan Ketch would make at finding you so wet for him before he’d even really touched you. Your lips part as a moan escapes them, but you have to bite your tongue to keep from whispering Arthur’s name.

“It’s been so long since we’ve had you like this,” Dean whispers in your ear, shattering your imaginations. He spins you around and presses you back against his brother. Sam’s arms wrap around your waist, his hard cock prodding your ass. You tilt your head to the side, allowing Sam access as he presses rough kisses up your neck.

“Then why are you stalling, Winchester?” you tease him, hoping to egg him on. Dean grins before moving onto the bed. He holds out his hand to you and guides you into his lap. His hands splay across your back as you settle down above him, his hard cock nestled in your dripping folds.

“Not stalling,” Dean answers between kisses as Sam moves to his bag to look for a bottle of lube, “Just taking my time with you.” You moan as one of his hands slides to your breast and squeezes lightly, his thumb and forefinger rolling your nipple between them. “Love that sound,” Dean adds, squeezing your breast a little harder.

“Shut up and fuck me,” you groan, rocking your hips against him.

“Hang on a second,” Sam says, still rummaging around in his bag. What was taking him so long?

“Start without Sam?” Dean asks, “Seems a little rude doesn’t it?” You roll your eyes at Dean’s comment before you press your lips against his. Dean’s hand moves up to your hair, tangling into it messily as he deepens the kiss. You can feel his cock twitch against you. It reminds you of the way Arthur feels when he’s desperate to be inside you.

The bed shifts as Sam settles himself behind you. Breaking the kiss with Dean, you reach behind you and fist your hand into Sam’s hair, bringing his lips to yours. “Finally,” you mutter against Sam’s lips.

“Well someone’s impatient,” Dean accuses. He runs his hands up your thighs before cupping your sex. You moan against Sam’s lips as you rock your hips toward Dean’s hand. Closing your eyes, you imagine it’s Arthur creating the sensations that the boys are giving you. You gasp as Dean slides a finder inside you, exploring your walls. Your hips buck when he curls his finger, the calloused pad of his finger dragging along your g-spot.

“Please,” you whimper against Sam’s lips. You needed to feel them inside you, to distract you from other matters.

Dean takes hold of your hips and lifts you slightly, lining himself up with your entrance. You almost moan Arthur’s name as Dean pushes into you, but you bite your lip hard. Instead you moan loudly as Dean fills and stretches you. Dean pulls you closer, forcing you to break the kiss with Sam. You turn your attention to Dean, kissing him deeply as Sam uses the lube to slick himself up.

Sam presses kisses to your shoulder as he lines himself up with your back entrance and pushes into you slowly enough to allow you time to adjust. You moan loudly as he pushes into you, stretching you and filling you to the brim. The burn you feel as he fills you quickly turns to pleasure. Their hands grasp at your body as they settle themselves inside you. They moan your name as you beg them to move, needing more.

The boys oblige you, their paces complementing one another. You make sure to always be kissing one of them for fear that if your lips aren’t otherwise occupied, you’ll cry out Arthur’s name. They don’t seem to mind, silently bickering over your attention.

You grasp at their shoulders and tug at their hair. Pressure builds within your stomach as they move inside you. Their grunts and groans fill the room as their paces become more and more erratic. “Fuck,” you gasp as Dean shifts his hips and finds a new angle to enter you at. Dean praises you, the praises reminding you of things Arthur might say. If only you could hear the words in Arthur’s voice.

“Y/N,” Sam grunts, his cock throbbing inside you.

The knot in your stomach twists as Dean’s cock twitches hard, your walls pulling tight around their cocks. “That’s it,” Dean grunts, “Fuck, Y/N!” His fingertips dig into your skin, sure to leave marks as his cock pulses, spilling himself deep inside you. Sam shouts your name soon after, his cock filling you with ropes of hot cum. Reaching around to your front, his fingers quickly find your clit, rubbing harsh circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. Sam nestles his face into the crook of your neck, kissing you gently as he works himself through his high and helps bring you to your own.

The feeling of Sam and Dean losing control draws you over the edge along with them. “A - Sam, Dean,” you moan, quickly correcting your mistake. Thankfully, neither of them seems to catch on. Your body shudders between them as your walls clamp down around them, pleasure coursing through you. As hard as you try not to, you can’t help but compare the boys to Arthur.

You knew it was wrong to be thinking about Ketch when you were in bed with Sam and Dean, but you couldn’t help it. The man invaded your thoughts, your actions. You hated to admit it, but it was true. As much as you had always enjoyed being with the Winchesters, they weren’t really what you wanted, not anymore.

The boys work you through your high before pulling themselves from you. Sam lies down against the bed and pulls you with him. You snuggle up against his side as Dean settles down to your other side. “Hey, Dean,” Sam begins, “Why don’t you run and grab some dinner?”

“I - yeah, sure,” Dean says before getting up and dressing himself. He seems reluctant to leave, but heads out anyway.

“You’re not interested in this anymore, are you?” Sam asks as soon as Dean had taken his leave.

“Why do you say that?” you ask him.

“You were somewhere else,” Sam explains, “You didn’t moan our names like you usually would and you kept your eyes closed like you were trying to imagine you were with somebody else.”

“Sam, I didn’t mean-” you begin, but he stops you.

“Don’t apologize,” Sam interrupts, “If I’m being honest, I was somewhere else too.”

“Really?” you ask him.

“Yeah,” Sam admits, nervously running his hand through his hair, “You know Eileen?”

“Leahy?” you ask, “Yeah, I know her. You two would be cute together.”

“You think so?” Sam asks, a shy smile on his lips.

“I know so,” you answer, nudging him with your elbow, “And I have a feeling you’re just her type.” Sam’s smile becomes a grin.

“So,” he continues, “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Nobody,” you answer.

“He’s not nobody,” Sam presses, “Not if you’re in love with him.”

“Who said I was in love?” you ask, somehow almost offended by the comment. You sit up in bed, looking down at Sam and waiting for his answer.

“You,” Sam laughs, “It’s written all over your face.”

“Shut up. I don’t love him,” you protest, “I like him and I care about him, but I’m not in love with him. He certainly isn’t in love with me, and he never will be, so what’s the point in loving him?”

“You’re getting awfully defensive,” Sam teases.

“Like I said, shut up,” you retort.

“Come on, I told you who I like, now it’s your turn,” Sam presses.

“What are you? A five year old?” you ask him.

“Just a hint, who is he?” Sam asks, clearly not going to give in.

“He’s just … he’s a hunter, ok?” you answer, “And besides, it doesn’t even mean anything. He’s not exactly relationship material. ”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Sam says.

“I don’t love him,” you repeat, more for your own benefit than for Sam’s.

“But maybe you could if you gave it a chance,” Sam suggests.

“I’d be stupid if I did,” you reply.

“Look, Y/N, I don’t know who this guy is, or how you really feel about him, but if you think you want to be with him then you deserve to have the chance,” Sam tells you, “But you can’t do that while you’re still in this arrangement with Dean and me.”

“Are you breaking up with me, Winchester?” you ask him with a half hearted smile.

“Not entirely,” Sam says, “But I think I’ve found someone I could have a life with and I think I deserve to explore that. I think you deserve a chance to do the same.”

“Thanks,” you say softly, “But how do you think Dean’s going to take it?”

“He’ll understand,” Sam assures you, “He’d want you to be happy and if breaking this off means you’d get the chance at happiness, he wouldn’t begrudge you that chance.”

***

You dressed and waited for Dean to return. He knew something was wrong the second he walked in the door. “I get it,” Dean says as soon as you’d finished explaining, “You’ve found someone who makes you happy. You deserve that. Besides, I knew this couldn’t last forever.” Despite what he was saying, you couldn’t mistake the sadness in his tone.

“Dean, I’m sorry,” you say, knowing you were hurting him.

“Don’t be,” Dean replies, “But we will still see you around right?”

“Of course,” you answer, “Just because I need to end this part of our relationship doesn’t mean I won’t be hunting with you guys.”

“Good,” Dean says. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you in tight. “I’d hate to lose you completely,” Dean says.

“Never,” you tell him before placing a kiss to his cheek.

You hadn’t decided what this meant. Just because you stopped sleeping with the Winchesters didn’t mean you felt anything for Arthur beyond your established friendship. Apparently your feelings were more evident to Sam than they were to you, which frustrated you even further. You needed to take some time to yourself in order to think things over; and as soon as you finished this hunt with Sam and Dean, that was exactly what you’d do.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requests: Please continue Selfish intentions, I’d love to see the next part! AND If it’s alright, can I request the next part to selfish intentions? AND I don’t know if anyone’s requested it already, but if not, may I ask for your Arthur Ketch series to continue? I would love more! AND I LOVE SELFISH INTENTIONS! But when’s the next one coming out? :(((( AND Please continue selfish intentions, like dude this is amazing and I need more!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: The reader finally has the perfect life with Ketch, or does she?
> 
> A/N: “Y/S/N” stands for your son’s name

Warnings: Smut, OOC Ketch, pregnant!Reader

Fic:

“Good morning, Love,” Arthur whispers, his lips pressing a kiss to the sweet spot behind your ear. Something about the pet name shocks you. The last time he called you that was … well, it was the night you began to suspect he wanted something more out of your relationship than casual sex. You couldn’t even remember how long ago that had been.

“It’s too early,” you complain, “Go back to sleep.” You snuggle back against him, his bare skin warm against your naked body. A groan escapes your lips as you feel his arousal pressing against you. Arthur chuckles as he places kisses down your neck and along your shoulder.

His hand slides down your arm before moving to your stomach. “I love you,” Arthur says as he splays his hand across your abdomen.

“You - you love me?” you ask him. You’d never imagined him saying the words and you weren’t sure you believed what he was saying. “Since when?” you question.

Arthur laughs, “Don’t act so surprised. I’ve told you a thousand times and I’ll tell you a thousand more. I love you.”

“I -” you begin, but stop. Something was off. You couldn’t begin to fathom what had changed in Arthur. “When was the first time you told me you loved me?” you press, wanting to see if you could remember.

“Our first night at the bunker together,” Arthur says. He props himself up on his elbow, cupping your cheek in his other hand and encouraging you to look at him over your shoulder. “It was right after I left the Men of Letters. The Winchesters and Mick worked with us and we had finally completed our task in America. That’s why Mick and I decided our jobs were done. We went to the bunker to celebrate and after everyone had said goodnight, we snuck off to an empty room. That was the first time we truly made love and afterward we talked about a future together.”

“And then you told me you loved me, right?” you ask, finishing the story for him. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remembered the story, but it was foggy. Everything was foggy if you were being honest. It was like you were waking up from a dream.

“Yes,” Arthur answers, “And then I made love to you again, and again and again.” He punctuates his words with playful kisses, making you laugh and squirm. “I hope it wasn’t that easily forgotten,” Arthur says, propping himself back up.

“Of course not,” you answer, pulling him in for a kiss, “I just wanted to hear you say it.” Arthur smiles against your lips, his hand twisting into your hair as he deepens the kiss.

His hips rock forward, making you hum softly. “Arthur, please,” you moan, an aching building between your legs. You push your hips back, desperately trying to egg him on; you were craving him. He chuckles again. “What’s so funny?” you ask him.

“You,” Arthur answers, “You were the same way last time you were pregnant.”

“Shut up,” you say, nudging him with your elbow. You knew he was right, but you weren’t about to admit that.

“Yes, ma'am,” he replies before placing a kiss to the sweet spot behind your ear. You continue grinding yourself against him and he finally gives in. Running his hand down the length of your body, he coaxes your leg back over his own, opening you up to him.

Another moan escapes you as slides his stiffened cock through your damp folds. He teases your clit with his tip before positioning himself at your entrance. Arthur kisses your shoulder as he pushes into you, muffling his groans as he sheaths himself to the hilt. “Arthur,” you moan softly for him as he stretches and fills you, knowing you couldn’t be too loud. Y/S/N was asleep just down the hall and you didn’t want to wake him.

“I love you,” Arthur whispers between kisses. His hips shift, pulling back before sliding into you again. He sets a slow pace, each thrust has his cock dragging along your g-spot. You intertwine your left hand with Arthur’s, your wedding band and his glinting in the sunlight streaming through the window. Arthur whispers his love for you as he moves inside you, nestling his face into the crook of your neck to stifle his grunts and groans.

Pressure builds within you as Arthur continues his torturous pace. You squeeze his hand tighter, your free hand fisting into the sheets. Pushing your hips back, you try to get him to pick up his pace, but he seems content with torturing you. You can feel him twitching and throbbing against your walls and you know he’s close. His teeth nip at the skin of your shoulder as his hand disentangles from yours. Reaching behind you, you fist your hand into Arthur’s hair as his hand travels down your body.

“Arthur,” you whisper, your back arching as Arthur’s fingers find your clit. He presses slow circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves in time with his thrusts, causing the pressure within you to reach the tipping point.

You have to cover your mouth with your hand as you reach your climax. Biting your lip, you try to hold back your moans as your walls clamp down around Arthur’s throbbing cock. Your body shudders in his arms as you lose yourself to the pleasure washing over you.

“kayla,” Arthur groans into the crook of your neck. His hand moves to your hip, fingertips pressing into the skin as he reaches his high. Arthur’s thrusts falter as his cock pulses, spilling himself inside you. “I love you,” he whispers against your skin as he rides out his high, prolonging your own.

Finally, his hips still and he pulls out of you. Snuggling back against him, you’re content to just lie in his arms. Arthur presses gentle kisses to your neck and shoulder as you both recover. “Arthur?” you begin, earning a hum from him. You turn over to face him, reaching up to cup his cheek in your hand. “I think I’m in love with you,” you tell him as if it were the first time you were saying the words.

“Happy to hear it, Love,” Arthur replies with a cocky smile. You roll your eyes at him before returning his smile. He kisses you on the lips before hopping out of bed.

“Where are you going?” you ask him as he pulls on his pajamas.

“To make breakfast for you and Y/S/N,” he tells you.

“You’re kidding right?” you laugh.

“I thought it might be nice to cook you breakfast,” Arthur replies.

“I’m pregnant, I’m not incapable of cooking,” you tell him, “Besides, you remember what happened last time you cooked?”

“I know you’re not incapable,” he replies, “And I know Y/S/N said your pancakes were better than mine, but I’ll make something else.”

“No, what Y/S/N said was that your cooking was awful,” you tease.

“Yes, well, you claimed to like my cooking,” he replies.

“Y/S/N’s not as good at lying as I am,” you answer as you ease yourself out of bed. Arthur frowns, crossing his arms as if you’ve hurt his feelings. “I love you, but you are a terrible cook,” you tell him before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Grabbing your clothes, you head to the bathroom to get cleaned up before heading downstairs to cook breakfast. Arthur stands behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist as you cook. He rests his chin against your shoulder, pressing kisses to your neck and cheek every now and again.

Just as you turn to kiss Arthur over your shoulder, you hear Y/S/N’s protest of, “Eww! Gross!” Both you and Arthur chuckle as you break the kiss.

“Good morning, Sweetheart,” you greet Y/S/N as he climbs up onto his seat.

“Good morning,” Y/S/N replies, already so full of energy even though it was so early in the morning. His eyes flick from Arthur to the stove and back again. “Dad didn’t cook did he?” Y/S/N asks, clearly afraid of the answer. You laugh at Arthur’s look of defeat.

“Lucky for you, your Mum’s cooking,” Arthur tells him, Y/S/N’s expression suddenly less worried. Arthur ruffles Y/S/N’s hair before taking a seat at the table.

As you cook, your boys talk about their plans for the day. It was Saturday, so Y/S/N was out of school, and you and Arthur were off work. Y/S/N wanted nothing more than to play catch in the backyard and Arthur readily agrees.

Fixing up three plates, you carry them to the table and sit down to eat. You can’t help but think about how perfect everything is, maybe even too perfect. Mick and Arthur were free of the Men of Letters. America had been ridden of the monsters you’d fought for so long, save for the ones you wanted around of course. Sam, Dean, and Castiel all lived on the same street as you. There hadn’t even been any uproar when they found out about your feelings for Arthur. Now here you were, in this beautiful home, with your beautiful family. It almost didn’t seem real.

“Mom!” Y/S/N shouts, trying to gain your attention.

“Is everything alright, Love?” Arthur asks, touching your arm gently, “Where were you?”

“Just thinking,” you assure him as you return to your meal. You smile half heartedly as you try to piece together exactly how you’d gotten to this point in your life.

After breakfast, you tell your boys that you aren’t feeling well and that they should go ahead and play catch without you. You take a seat on the patio, watching them throw the ball back and forth, Y/S/N cheering when he catches the ball and Arthur shouting words of encouragement. Arthur had been so afraid of becoming a father, but here he was, nothing less than perfect.

Even though this might be something you wanted for you and for Arthur, it wasn’t right. Why were you fighting this? You finally had a life away from hunting, why couldn’t you be content with that? A life free from monsters was what you always wanted, but it came too easily. You hadn’t had to sacrifice anything to earn your freedom and your friends had made it through okay. Something was wrong and you knew it. You were determined to figure out what it was.

Standing from your seat, you suddenly begin to feel lightheaded. You squeeze your eyes shut as spots begin to dance before them. Suddenly, your legs give out beneath you and you tumble to the ground.

“kayla!” Arthur shouts. You feel him scoop you up into his arms. “kayla, wake up,” Arthur begs.

“I’m fine,” you assure him, “Just a little dizzy.”

“Please, wake up,” Arthur continues, “You can’t leave me. Not like this.” You look up at him in confusion. His lips weren’t moving, but you heard his voice clear as day, begging for you to wake up.

“Arthur, I’m fine,” you repeat.

“Please,” you hear Arthur’s voice say, “Please come back.” You shut your eyes tight, trying to work out what had happened. “I can’t lose you,” he says, his voice sounding distant.

A drop of water falls on your cheek and you slowly open your eyes. You weren’t on the patio any longer. It was dim in the ruined building, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead. Arthur sits on the concrete floor and has you cradled in his lap, his hand running comfortingly through your hair as his lips move in a silent prayer. He was crying and you weren’t sure why; he never seemed like the crying type.

“Arthur?” you question, your voice hoarse. Every part of your body screamed with pain and you felt weaker than you’d ever felt before.

Arthur’s eyes fly open and he quickly wipes away his tears as if he’s ashamed for you to see him that way. He gently wraps you up in his arms and pulls you close, being careful not to cause you any more pain. “Thank God,” Arthur whispers, “I thought I’d lost you.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requests: Will there be a part 10 to Selfish Intentions? I love it!

Warnings: Ketch’s POV, violence/death, injured reader, no smut in this part

Fic:

Arthur sits at the conference table, giving a minimal amount of attention to Mick as he drones on about proper procedures for filing paperwork after a hunt. All of this sitting and waiting for another hunt, all of the paperwork was a bore. Arthur wanted to be out in the field, fighting something, killing something; but more than that, he wanted to be near Y/N again. It was strange, but he actually found himself missing her in the weeks they’d been apart. Maybe it was selfish to want to be near her so often, but being selfish was a trait he’d come accustomed to. Suddenly, his phone buzzes in his pocket, drawing his attention. Sneaking a look at his phone, Arthur finds Y/N’s name flashing across his screen. A smirk pulls at his lips.

It had been several weeks since he’d heard from his favorite hunter. She said she needed some time on her own, and Arthur gave her that, though he wanted to do otherwise. There was something about her, something he’d never felt for anyone else. After all the training he’d been through, he was sure he’d never feel anything ever again. Y/N, however, made him feel things he never imagined he could feel, things he tried so desperately to ignore. If he wasn’t careful, she’d be the ruin of him.

“Are we quite finished here?” Arthur asks, anxious to see if Y/N has left a message for him.

“Not quite,” Mick answers, “There are some new guidelines I have to go over with you.”

“Fine, hurry up,” Arthur sighs. Arthur’s fingers twitch as he tries to refrain himself from looking at his phone. He wanted, no needed, to hear her voice. The hold she had on him was infuriating.

His phone buzzes again, making Arthur all the more anxious. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he had this rolling, clenching feeling in the pit of his stomach that made him nauseous. It was something he’d never experienced before, but the feeling told him that something was wrong. Arthur barely listens as Mick finishes his speech, and as soon as he’s done, Arthur stands from his seat and rushes to his room. As soon as he’s alone, he pulls out his phone and plays his voicemail.

“Hey, Arthur, it’s Y/N,” she says, “I’ve been hunting a djinn and I think it’s started hunting me back. I can’t stay on the phone long, I need to keep moving. I need your help, please. I’m not sure where I’m going yet, but I still have the tracker in my car. I need you to follow it and meet up with me somewhere. Please.” Her voice was shaky and she was obviously frightened. Arthur could never remember hearing her sound like that. Where were the bloody Winchesters? When she said she wanted to be alone, surely she didn’t mean she wanted to be away from them too, did she?

Arthur puts his phone on speaker as he begins packing his backpack with hunting gear. The next message begins to play and Arthur’s blood runs cold in his veins. “Arthur,” Y/N whispers, “I-it found me. I don’t think -” Her words are cut off by a scream and the sound of her body being drug across gravel.

Arthur felt as if he couldn’t breathe. A rage was growing inside him and he knew exactly what he needed to do. Throwing his backpack over his shoulder, he rushes to the laboratory, nearly pushing anyone in his way to the ground. When he reaches his destination, he demands the antidote for djinn’s poison. The lab tech hands it over and Arthur leaves before they can ask any questions. He makes one last stop to check the location of the tracker in Y/N’s car before getting on his motorcycle and speeding off.

He had always been so calm and collected, it was what he was trained to be, but knowing that Y/N was in danger made him frantic. What if something happened to her? What if he wasn’t there to stop it? The only person he’d ever given a damn about was himself, but that was before Y/N. It had always been so easy to suppress his emotions and even now he didn’t want to admit what he was feeling, but he couldn’t deny his selfish need to save the woman that he … the fragmented pieces of his mind wouldn’t even let him finish his thoughts.

Arthur pushes his motorcycle to go faster, paying no attention whatsoever to speed limits. Every second he wasted getting closer to her was a second she got closer to death. He wished that he had let her come to the compound like she wanted. Arthur had been trying to protect her in the only way he knew how, but in the process he’d pushed her away and this was the result. If she died because of his stupidity, he’d never forgive himself.

It was taking too long to get to her and she was dying, if she weren’t already dead. Every drop of her blood spilt felt as if it were on Arthur’s hands. Finally, Arthur finds Y/N’s car, parked on a gravel road. The driver’s side door was open and her phone lay where she’d dropped it, the screen shattered. From what Arthur could tell, the djinn had chased her here, captured her, and drug her off to god knew where. He follows the marks on the ground, hoping they’d lead him to Y/N.

They lead him to an abandoned warehouse. Arthur grabs his silver knife that had been dipped in lamb’s blood out of his backpack before sneaking inside. The lights flicker above him as he makes his way through the building. Chains hung from the ceiling rattle as he moves past them. “Shit,” he whispers, catching the chains and trying to quiet them.

Arthur half expects to see the djinn when he turns around, but the hallway is eerily empty. He makes his way further into the compound and he begins to hear the slow drip of water droplets. Pushing a plastic sheet that’s hanging from the ceiling out of his way, he sees realizes that the water he’d hear was actually blood. Y/N hangs from the ceiling by her wrists, her head tipped forward. Her clothes are soaked with blood and her leg is obviously broken. Blood drips from her feet into a bowl that’s placed beneath her. Dropping his knife to the ground with a clatter, he rushes toward Y/N and tries to find a way to get her down.

“So you’re the hunter she cried to for help,” a man says from somewhere behind Arthur, “And now here you are; two hunters for the price of one. It must be my lucky day.”

“Shut up,” Arthur growls. Turning from Y/N, he reaches for the knife he’d discarded only to find the djinn with his foot on the weapon.

“Why don’t you just leave her?” the djinn asks, “She has everything she’s ever wanted; a home, a family, a life away from monsters like us. Sure, it’s all fake, but as far as she knows, nothing can hurt her. She can live a lifetime free from a world like this one. Isn’t that what you want for the woman you love?”

“I said shut up,” Arthur hisses as he straightens himself up, preparing for a fight.

“You can stop pretending,” the djinn laughs as he kicks the knife away, metal scraping across the concrete floor, “Why else would you drop everything and come to save her? I’ve seen her thoughts, you know. I know her deepest desires and I hate to tell you that you’re not one of them. Even if you save her, she’ll never love you. You can lie to yourself, make yourself believe whatever you want, but you will never be with her the way you want. Think about it, even if she did love you, your fragmented mind wouldn’t let you love her back. She’d start to resent you and then where would you be?”

“You can talk all you want, but I will kill you,” Arthur growls. There was a broken piece of pipe on the floor five paces to his right, all he needed was the chance to grab it.

“Now why would you want to do that when I can offer you everything you’ve ever wanted? She doesn’t love you, but I can give you a life where she does,” the djinn offers, “Just one little touch and you can have the life you crave but try so desperately to ignore.”

Arthur wanted to punch himself for even considering the djinn’s offer, but he couldn’t deny the appeal. Shaking the thought off, Arthur remembers what he was there to do. Lunging to the right, he grabs the pipe from the floor and throws himself at the djinn. The monster tries to fight back, but Arthur’s rage is overpowering. He brings the pipe down against the djinn’s head over and over again until it’s beaten to a pulp.

The pipe clatters as Arthur drops it to the ground. Taking a breath, Arthur steadies himself and loosens the restraints from Y/N’s wrists. He lowers her to the ground and cradles her in his lap. Tearing the bottom of his t-shirt, he makes bandages, tying them tight around Y/N’s wounds as he tries to stop the bleeding. Reaching for his bag, he pulls out the antidote.

“You’re going to be alright,” Arthur promises in a whisper as he sticks the needle into her arm and presses down the plunger. Nothing happens. “Y/N,” he whispers as he scoops her up in his arms and holds her closer, “Y/N, wake up.” Still nothing. “Please wake up,” he continues, tears welling in his eyes, a lump in his throat, “You can’t leave me, not like this. Please; please come back. I can’t lose you.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried, but the thought of losing Y/N was too much to bear. She’d awoken a part of him that he never knew existed and if she died, that part of him would die along with her. Closing his eyes, Arthur runs his fingers through Y/N’s hair, silently praying to anyone that would listen. A tear rolls down his cheek and he doesn’t even try to stop it.

“Arthur?” Y/N questions, her voice scratchy. Opening his eyes, Arthur looks down to find Y/N looking back up at him. He quickly wipes away his tears and chokes back his sobs.

Even if what the djinn said was true, it didn’t matter; all that mattered was that Y/N was alright. Gently, he wraps her up in his arms and holds her close. “Thank God,” Arthur whispers, “I thought I’d lost you.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requests: Please do more Selfish Intentions, I need more Ketch! AND Please tell me there will be more Ketch, I hate/love him… AND Please tell me that there will be more of Selfish Intentions. I love seeing Ketch struggle with his emotions.
> 
> Summary: After being saved by Arthur, the reader tells him about the life the djinn made her see and admits her feelings for him.

Warnings: Injured reader, angst, no smut in this part

Fic:

“What happened?” you groan as you wake from sleep. As you rub the sleep from your eyes, you begin to notice the bandages wrapped around various body parts and the cast on your leg.

“You don’t remember?” Ketch asks. He has you cradled in his arms, your head resting against his chest. You were in a bed, more of a cot really, in a room you didn’t recognize.

“Bits and pieces,” you tell him as you press your palm to your aching forehead. You remembered your fake life with Arthur perfectly, but after waking up in the warehouse, you had slipped in and out of consciousness. There was a car ride, Arthur’s hand on your shoulder, his voice begging you not to sleep, but you couldn’t remember where he’d taken you.

“Well, you were hunting a djinn and you were captured,” Arthur explains, “Thankfully you were able to get a message to me before the vile creature drug you off, but where were the bloody Winchesters? They should’ve been there to help you. Next time I see them, they’re -”

“They didn’t know I was there,” you interrupt.

“And why not?” Ketch asks almost bitterly.

“Because,” you answer, “When I said I needed some time alone, I meant I needed some time alone.”

“I thought perhaps you meant that you needed some time alone, with them,” he says quietly.

“If that were the case, I would’ve just told you,” you assure him.

“Why were you hunting alone?” he asks.

“I needed some time to think things over,” you answer vaguely, “And hunting usually helps me think.”

“I thought I’d lost you,” he says softly, voice filled with pain.

“Arthur, I’m fine … I mean, everything hurts, but I’m alive because of you,” you say, “Thank you for that, by the way.”

“You should’ve prayed to Castiel,” Arthur says, “He could’ve gotten to you faster than I did.”

“Maybe it would’ve been smarter to ask Cas for help, but when I was in trouble, you were the first person I thought of,” you admit. Arthur stares off as if he’s trying to comprehend what you’re telling him.

“Next time call me before the monster starts hunting you,” Arthur demands, “Because watching you bleed out, praying that I won’t lose you, I can’t do that again.”

“The way you say that, it almost sounds like you care,” you say.

Arthur hums, but decidedly ignores your statement. “When I finally got to the warehouse, I killed the djinn and got you back to your car. You’d lost so much blood that I didn’t think you’d make it back to the bunker, so I brought you here.”

“And where exactly is here?” you question.

“The Men of Letters compound,” he answers. You can hear the spite in his voice.

“Oh,” you whisper. He’d fought so hard to keep you away from this place.

“The doctors here patched you up and told me you’d be alright,” Arthur finishes, “As soon as you’re healed, you can go back to hunting with your Winchesters.”

“Actually, I was hoping that I could go hunting with you again,” you admit. Ketch almost seems surprised.

“I suppose, if that’s what you want,” Arthur answers.

“It is,” you reply, “If you’ll have me.” Arthur hums again, his arms tightening around you. You fall silent for a long while, happy just to let Arthur hold you. Maybe you’d never have the life you’d seen, but the dream world had made you realize something; something Sam had realized even before you had. You were in love.

“Promise you won’t do anything like that again,” Arthur demands, finally breaking the silence.

“I’m a hunter,” you tell him, “I’m in situations like that all the time.” 

“That doesn’t mean you need to go out of your way to put yourself in danger,” Arthur retorts, “If I lost you, I’d …”

“You’d what?” you press as his words trail off.

“I don’t even want to think about it,” he says.

“Arthur,” you say, trying to hold back groans of pain as you roll onto your stomach. Propping yourself up, you look down at him and cup his cheek in your hand. “Do you want to know what I saw when the djinn poisoned me?” you ask him.

“A happy life I suppose,” he sighs. He looks to the side, trying to avoid eye contact with you.

“You’re right, I was happy,” you tell him as you stroke his cheek with your thumb, “I lived in this beautiful home with an amazing husband. We had a perfect little boy and another baby on the way. There were no monsters, no hunting, no Men of Letters, just a normal life. The funny thing is, until that moment, I didn’t know I wanted any of that.”

“So who was he?” Arthur asks, “Was it Sam or Dean you were married to?”

“Neither,” you answer.

“Your angel or the King of Hell then?” he questions, still refusing to look at you.

“No,” you reply simply.

“Who then?” he asks, his tone suggesting that he’s not sure he really wants to know the answer.

“You,” you answer. With the single word, Arthur’s expression changes. He looks up at you, eyebrows knit in confusion.

“You’re lying,” Ketch accuses, “The djinn said -“

“Whatever that monster said, I’m sure it was trying to hurt you,” you tell him.

“You … you can’t have feelings for me,” Ketch says. “Being married to me couldn’t possibly be your greatest desire.” You watch as he tries to wrap his head around the idea.

“Sam realized it before I did,” you admit, “He didn’t know it was you, but he knew I was falling for someone. After that, I broke things off with the Winchesters.”

“You did?” Arthur asks, “Why would you end the arrangement you had with them?”

“I ended things because I couldn’t be with them without thinking of you,” you admit, “That’s why I needed some time alone. I needed some time to think about what Sam said and to figure out if what I felt for you was something fleeting or if it was real.”

“And?” Ketch presses almost shyly.

“And,” you continue, “It took Sam pointing me in the right direction and a djinn fueled hallucination, but in the end, I realized that I’m in love with you.”

“You can’t,” Arthur says in disbelief.

“Says who?” you ask

“No one’s ever said that to me before,” Arthur says almost as if he’s in awe as he reaches up to cup your cheek, “The djinn … he said you’d never love me.”

“It lied,” you repeat, “I love you, Arthur Ketch.” A smile crosses his lips, a genuine smile, not one of the smirks he so often wore, but it quickly fades.

“You shouldn’t,” Arthur warns. His reaction confused you. You were sure that hearing you loved him made him happy, yet he was still trying to keep you at a distance.

“Arthur, why do you keep trying to push me away?” you ask him.

“Because I’m not the man you deserve,” Ketch says, “I want to be, believe me, I do, but I’m not sure I ever will be.” You hated that he saw himself this way, that the Men of Letters had done this to him.

“Then tell me, what do I deserve?” you press.

“A man who can tell you how he feels,” Arthur says, “A man who doesn’t have to fight with the broken fragments of his mind in order to feel anything at all. You have no clue how badly I want to tell you that I lo- … that I lo- … I lo- …” Arthur pushes you away and moves to sit at the edge of the bed, his back toward you. He rests his forehead in his hands, fingers twisting into his hair and pulling. “I want to tell you, but every time I try to put those three words together, the sentence falls apart on my tongue,” Arthur says, frustration in every word, “I can say the bloody word, call you Love as a pet name, but when I try to say I lo-… I can’t, my brain won’t let me.”

“Arthur,” you say gently as you move to sit behind him with your legs to either side of his body, “You don’t have to say it.” You wrap your arms around him, pressing your cheek to his back.

“Don’t,” Arthur warns.

“I understand what you’re trying to say,” you assure him.

“That isn’t good enough,” Ketch says angrily, “I’m not good enough.” He pushes your arms away from him and stands, trying to put some distance between you and him. Arthur just stands there, keeping his back to you.

“I saw you crying, when we were in the warehouse,” you whisper.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Ketch asks.

“You care, I know you do,” you tell him, “I saw it then and I see it now.”

“Even if I did care, I’m not worth your time,” Ketch sighs, “You can use me, have fun, do whatever you want, but don’t fall for me. I’m not worth it.” He was afraid of losing you, but terrified of letting you close enough to hurt him.

“Arthur,” you say gently, reaching out to touch the small of his back. It hurts when he flinches away from your touch. “Maybe you can’t say it the way you want to, but that doesn’t mean you can’t tell me how you feel,” you suggest, “You don’t have to say you love me, not in those words; say it some other way, show me.” Silence falls heavy over the room, threatening to suffocate you. Arthur stays stone still and you’re afraid that he’s shutting down, pushing you away for good. You wished there was a way to make him see that he could trust you and that you meant what you were saying, but you’re not sure how.

“Arthur, I’m -” you begin to say that you’re sorry you put him in this position, but he interrupts you.

“You’re like a candle in a dark room, casting shadows on the man I was and illuminating the man I might become,” he says, “You’ve made me feel emotions that I’ve been trained to repress. Love is a weakness. That’s what I’ve always been told, but I don’t believe that you make me weak. You’ve made me want to change, to be better than the broken monster I’ve been molded into.”

“You’re not a monster,” you tell him, making him laugh bitterly. “You’re not,” you repeat. The bed creaks as you try to stand, but as soon as he hears the sound, Arthur spins on his heel and places his hands on your shoulders.

“The doctors said the cure will make you weak and the medications you’re on might make you dizzy,” Arthur says, “You shouldn’t stand.”

“Arthur, what you just said means so much more than hearing you say those three words,” you tell him. Arthur sinks down onto the cot beside you. You slip your hand into his, intertwining your fingers. He looks down at your hand in his as if this were the first time you’d ever touched him.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Arthur says, “But I can never be the man you need me to be.”

“You saved me,” you tell him, “You dropped everything and risked your life for mine. Maybe you’re not perfect, but who the Hell is? That doesn’t mean you’re not the man I need, and it certainly doesn’t mean that you’re not the man that I want. As long as I can help it, you’re not going to lose me.” A smile pulls at the corner of his lips again.

With his free hand, Arthur cups the nape of your neck and pulls you toward him, resting his forehead against your own. “My light,” he whispers.

“I love you too,” you reply. Closing the distance, you press your lips to his. Arthur only pulls you closer, deepening the kiss.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requests: Please please please continue your Arthur Ketch x Reader series! Love you! AND Would you consider continuing your Ketch series? It’s so good! AND I love your Arthur Ketch series, please write another part. I love your writing!!!
> 
> Summary: Arthur has to leave the reader at the Men of Letters compound in order to go on a hunt. While she recovers from her broken leg and waits for Arthur to return, the reader makes plans with Mick to change the way the Men of Letters operate.

Warnings: Injured reader and Ketch, mentions of bruises/cuts/broken leg, smut

Fic:

“Do you really have to go?” you pout as Arthur stands from the cot.

“Unfortunately, Hess says I must,” Arthur answers. You roll onto your stomach and prop yourself up on your elbows, watching as Arthur dresses himself.

“Fine, but does it have to be with Mary?” you ask. Arthur chuckles as he buttons up his white dress shirt.

“You’re not jealous, are you, Love?” Arthur questions with a smirk. He pulls on his pants and tucks his shirt into them.

“Should I be?” you ask in return.

“Not in the least,” Arthur answers. He leans down and places a kiss to your forehead. “Besides, the hunt shouldn’t take long. I’ll be back in no time.”

“I hate having a broken leg,” you complain, “I can’t hunt or even train. I feel like I’m trapped.” Even though your leg was healing quickly thanks to the cure the Men of Letters’ doctors had given you, it couldn’t heal fast enough. You couldn’t wait to be out of the compound and hunting with Arthur again.

“I know,” Arthur says, buckling his belt before taking a seat on the edge of his cot, “And I hate that this is where I took you; but as soon as your leg is healed, I will get you out of here. I promise.” His fingers trace patterns up and down your bare back.

“I’m only leaving if you promise to come with me,” you tell him.

“So stubborn,” Arthur accuses, making you smile.

“You know you like me that way,” you tease, making him smile in return. Arthur leans in and captures your lips. Reaching up, you fist your hand into his hair and tilt your head, deepening the kiss. Arthur groans when you try to pull him back into bed.

“I really do have to go,” Arthur tells you as he breaks the kiss. Despite what he says, he’s reluctant to leave. His hand splays across your lower back and he rests his forehead against yours.

“I know,” you sigh, “Can’t blame a girl for trying. Just promise to come back to me in one piece.”

“Yes ma’am,” Arthur replies, “As long as you try not to get into any trouble while I’m gone.”

“I’ll try to lay low,” you promise.

“Good,” Arthur approves. He leans in and presses his forehead to yours again. “My light,” he whispers.

“I love you too,” you respond. Arthur’s thumb traces along your cheekbone and he kisses you one last time before standing from the bed.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Arthur promises as he ties his tie. He grabs his suit jacket and gives you one last smile before reluctantly leaving the room. You sigh as you roll onto your back, looking up at the plain white ceiling.

You’d spent two weeks at the compound and in that time, you’d seen just how poorly the members of the Men of Letters were treated by those in power. People like Arthur, Mick, and even Toni were pawns, cannon fodder. The organization didn’t care whether Arthur lived or died, because, to them, he was replaceable. People like Doctor Hess and her superiors only cared about their own goals and anyone who failed to help achieve them was worthless.

You wanted to get Arthur out of this nightmare he was trapped in, but you didn’t know how. It wasn’t like you could run. Arthur was one of their best hunters and the Men of Letters wouldn’t let him leave without there being consequences. Even if you did run, you’d never be able to stop. There was nowhere you could hide where they wouldn’t find you. When you mentioned resignation to Arthur, he told you that dying was the only resignation the Men of Letters would accept.

Even so, you knew you had to find a way. You refused to let him continue to be harmed the people who had abused him all his life; and it wasn’t just about Arthur. How many children had lost their lives because of some ‘code?’ How many were being tortured and broken right now because of this organization?

You were a hunter. You fought monsters and protected innocents from the supernatural, but sometimes the monsters weren’t supernatural at all. Sometimes they were just people; people like Hess and the Old Man. People like them were the true monsters. You wondered if Mick and Toni were innocents or monsters too.

Finally, you decide to get out of bed. Once you’re dressed, you grab your crutches and head toward the library. Maybe you couldn’t hunt, but at least you could read. “Hello, Darling,” Mick greets you when you walk in. He was sitting behind one of the desks, a book open in front of him.

“Hi, Mick,” you reply, “I figured you’d be in a meeting now.”

“No meetings today, but I was rather hoping I could speak with you about something,” he replies.

“Please don’t give me the speech again,” you sigh as you slump down into one of the uncomfortable reading chairs, “I might be staying here for the time being, but that doesn’t mean I’m planning on joining your organization just yet.”

Mick chuckles before responding, “It isn’t that. It’s mostly about you and Ketch.”

“What about us?” you ask guardedly.

“We know why he brought you here,” Mick says, “It isn’t hard to see.”

“I was hurt and you guys could fix me,” you shrug, “Ketch just didn’t want to lose his new plaything.”

“You’re much more than that,” Mick tells you, “I’ve never seen him in love with anyone before, other than himself of course. When he brought you here, thinking he might lose you, it nearly destroyed him. He’s seen plenty of people die and never shed a tear; but you, watching you dying was his tipping point. Hess, of course, sees you as a threat to Arthur’s loyalties.” You swallow hard, afraid of what he might say next. “I, on the other hand, see his connection to you as a strength,” Mick continues, “You’ve given him something to fight for.”

“So does Hess want me dead?” you question hesitantly.

“Not as of now,” Mick answers.

“So why are you telling me this?” you ask.

“I’m warning you to be careful,” Mick answers, “If Hess so much as suspects Arthur would leave the Men of Letters because of you, she’d put a bullet through your brain and probably Arthur’s too. Please don’t let that happen.”

“Why do you care what happens to me?” you ask him.

“I don’t want to see either of you hurt or killed,” Mick answers, “Just because I work for the Men of Letters, it doesn’t mean I can’t empathize. Arthur and I were never best friends growing up, but I know him well enough to see the good you’ve done for him. That man deserves some fraction of happiness in his life and I suspect you do too. Arthur hides it well, but he’s a broken man.”

“I know,” you admit, “And I know about the torture and the killing they forced you both to commit when you were all little.”

Mick hums. “I still have nightmares about that,” he admits, “I was forced to kill my best friend, but I can only imagine what Arthur went through. Having to kill your brother, the only family you have and your twin no less. It must’ve been devastating.”

“What?” you ask, taken aback, “Arthur said he killed the only person he ever considered a friend, not his twin brother.”

“Arthur didn’t tell you the whole story,” Mick surmises.

“How could they do that?” you question, “Why didn’t he fight back?”

“We were children, taught to obey the code, we didn’t know any better and we were too afraid to take a stand,” Mick says.

“Well now you’re adults,” you say, “You know what they did to Arthur, and to you, wasn’t right. Why don’t you stand up and fight back?”

“With what army?” Mick asks, “We don’t all have someone to fight for. Not to mention the fact that many of us are so brainwashed that we’d never even think about fighting our own organization. For most of us, the Men of Letters is the only family we’ve ever known.”

“It’s a pretty fucked up family if you ask me,” you reply.

“I’m not denying that,” Mick admits, “I know I said that many of us wouldn’t fight, but I also know the Men of Letters doesn’t have to operate the way it does now. I’ve seen the way hunters like you and the Winchesters work. You save people, do so much good in this world, without having to adhere to the code.”

“Which is why I didn’t fall for your spiel,” you comment.

“I didn’t understand it at the time, but I do now. I think we could learn a lot from you,” Mick says, “You’re right, the way we were treated, it was wrong. None of us deserved that, so I’m asking for your help. You could show us a better way.”

“What could I do?” you ask, “I’m not a part of your organization. Nobody would listen to me, especially not Hess or the Old Man.”

“Ketch would listen,” Mick says, “And so would I. It would take time, but I believe that we can change things for the better. We don’t have to kill, or even fight, if we can convince the Old Man that the code is obsolete.”

“What makes you think that would actually work?” you ask.

“I’m not sure it would,” Mick admits, “But I think it’s worth trying. If you could make things better for the people you considered family, wouldn’t you try anything to save them?“ You would.

“And how do you propose we convince him?” you ask.

“We recruit more American hunters,” Mick proposes, “Team them up with the Men of Letters hunters and send them out on hunts together. If our hunters can see the way you hunt, without needing the code to guide your actions, maybe it will make them believe the way I do.”

“Arthur has hunted with me plenty of times, not to mention Mary and Dean,” you comment, “He hasn’t turned against the code, so what makes you think others would?”

“It only took me one hunt with the Winchesters to convince me,” Mick tells you, “Others may be easily persuaded as well. Arthur is … his mind is more corrupted the rest. His parents were both members of the Men of Letters. It made Arthur and his brother legacies. Unfortunately for the both of them, this gained Hess’ special attention. No matter how well they performed or how far they excelled above all the rest, it was never good enough. Hess tortured and poisoned them until they were nothing but empty shells. Forcing them to fight one another was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Arthur was never the same after that day, but if there’s anyone who could save him, I believe it’s you.” You hoped that Mick was right.

“I’ll help,” you agree, “But for Arthur’s sake, not yours.”

“Good,” Mick says, “But you can’t breathe a word of what we’re planning to anyone, do you understand? It could get us both killed.”

“I understand,” you agree.

“You really do love him, don’t you?” Mick asks, waiting only long enough for you to nod, “I’m glad. After everything he’s been through, he deserves someone like you in his life.”

***

Arthur’s hunt with Mary lasted ten agonizingly long days. You spent those days with Mick, having quiet conversations about hunters who would be willing to aid in your cause. Despite your initial reluctance, you were becoming excited about the prospect of changing the Men of Letters’ way of thinking. If you could bring them to your side instead of having to fight against them, they could be an invaluable ally. Becoming friends with Mick only made you more optimistic about the idea of changing things one day. Like Arthur, he wasn’t the man you first suspected him to be. Even if you had to win each member of the Men of Letters over one by one, there was a chance that things could be made better, for all of them.

You’re walking around the compound, reacquainting yourself with walking without a cast or crutches, when you hear the sound of the Bently pulling up to the compound’s gate. The sound has you rushing toward it. You run up to Arthur as he steps out of the car and you throw your arms around him.

“I’ve missed you,” Arthur whispers as he pulls you to him.

“I’ve missed you too,” you say, holding him tight. Arthur winces. “What’s wrong?” you ask, pulling away.

“Minor injury,” he answers, “Nothing to be concerned about.”

Mary practically ignores you as she gathers her supplies and heads inside. You wonder if she knows about the distance you’d put between yourself and her sons. If she was judging you for being here, she had no right to do so.

“What happened to your cheek?” you ask, gently tracing your fingers along a wound down the side of his face.

“Another minor injury,” Arthur says, “I see your cast has come off.”

“Just yesterday actually,” you say, “Good as new!”

“Glad to hear it,” Arthur says, “So, how did you pass the time without me?” He grabs his bags and tosses the car keys to a nearby guard.

“Well, I’ve gotten to know Mick pretty well,” you answer. Arthur frowns.

“Has he been pressuring you to join us?” he asks.

“Yes and no,” you answer, “Let’s go to your room and I’ll explain.” You slip your hand into his and walk with him to his room. Along the way, Arthur drops off his bag of weapons with one of his coworkers, much to their annoyance.

“So?” Arthur asks as soon as he gets you to his room and shuts the door behind you, “Are you ready to leave?”

“Actually, I was thinking I might stay here for a little while,” you say.

“That isn’t a good idea,” Arthur says, “And if you’re planning on joining us, that idea is even worse.” You can hear the agitation in his voice.

“Mick showed me all of the resources the compound has to offer and I think it could be really useful,” you say, not wanting him to know about your true plans with Mick, “I don’t necessarily have to join the Men of Letters, but I’d have to stick around in order to have access to the resources. Besides, we can get away from here and go hunting together as much as you want.”

“Y/N, I’ve told you, the people here are dangerous,” Arthur says.

“Which is exactly why I don’t want to leave you here alone,” you say.

“You’re not my guardian angel,” Arthur says.

“Yeah, well that isn’t going to stop me from trying to keep you safe from the monsters that run this place,” you retort.

“So that’s what this is about? Saving me?” Arthur asks.

“Protecting you,” you correct, “From all of this.” You wave your hand toward the door.

“You can’t,” Arthur says, “No one can. It’s too late to protect me from this, but I can still protect you. That’s why I need you to leave.” He places his hands on your shoulders and squeezes gently.

“And I’m telling you that I’m not leaving without you by my side,” you retort.

“Always so stubborn,” Arthur complains.

“Always,” you confirm, cupping his face between your hands, “So you can be assured that when I say I won’t leave you, I mean it.” Arthur sighs, knowing that you weren’t going to give in. “Arthur, I know what you’ve told me about the Men of Letters, and I’m sure there are things you haven’t told me about too,” you continue, “I also know you don’t want me to be here, but I don’t want you here either. They’ve hurt you and I want to make sure they don’t do it again.”

“I can’t run away, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” Arthur says, “They’ll find me no matter where I am and running would only get you killed too.”

“I know,” you say, “Mick said as much, but we have plans.” The sentence slips out accessed you instantly regret it.

“What sort of plans?” Arthur asks you.

“We’re not sure how it will work just yet,” you say, trying to avoid specifics, “But we want to make things better for everyone here.”

“Impossible,” Arthur scoffs.

“Maybe,” you shrug, “Maybe not, but if Mick and I don’t try, then we’ll never know. I have to stay in order to do that, so please, let me stay.”

“Fine,” Arthur concedes, “But you have to be careful. You can’t give Hess or anyone else a reason to kill you. If Mick drags you into something that gets you killed, I swear -”

“Don’t,” you whisper, “Don’t think like that. I need you to believe that things will get better.”

Arthur grumbles under his breath before he gives in and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. “My light,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours.

“I love you too,” you whisper back. Arthur’s lips press to yours, his tongue flicking against your bottom lip. One of his hands tangles into your hair, deepening the kiss. His other hand splays across your lower back, pulling you closer to him. You slide your hands down to his chest and beneath his suit jacket, trying to slip it from his shoulders.

Arthur finally concedes, shrugging the garment from his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. His hands reach for your shirt next, lifting the hem up. You raise your hands over your head, allowing him to pull your shirt from you. His hands slide down your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“I missed you,” you mutter against his lips as you pull his tie from his neck and unbutton his shirt. Arthur’s hands slide around to your back, unclasping your bra before pulling the straps from your shoulders. You open the front of your jeans as you kick off your shoes. Arthur pushes your jeans down and you kick them from your ankles. Reaching down, you unbuckle his belt and pull it through its loops before unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. You push them down and he kicks them off along with his shoes.

Arthur’s hands grasp your hips and he turns you before backing you up toward his bed. You both toe off your socks as you go. The backs of your knees hit the edge and you fall back onto it, breaking the kiss. You watch as he unbuttons his shirt pulls it from his arms, revealing a large purple bruise that wraps from his belly button, around his left side, and to his back. “Arthur,” you gasp, your hand automatically moving to caress the damaged skin, “What happened?”

“Hunting tends to have its downfalls,” Arthur answers.

“I should have been there,” you say softly.

“You can’t protect me from everything,” Arthur says, “It isn’t even that bad.” Leaning down, he cups your cheek and draws you in for a kiss. You know the wound is worse than he’s telling you, but he doesn’t give you the chance to argue with him. Arthur moves onto the bed and lies you back, your head hitting the pillow.

“The Hell if I can’t try,” you mumble against his lips as Arthur settles himself above you. He rests one forearm beside your head. His other hand reaches for yours, fingers intertwining as he presses your hand back against the pillow. You card your fingers through his hair and draw him in for another kiss. Arthur groans as you deepen the kiss and draw your fingers gently down his back. He breaks the kiss and begins leaving kisses down your body instead. “Arthur,” you moan, your back arching as he sucks one of your nipples between his lips. Your moans become louder as his hips rock against you, his arousal evident.

“You have no clue how badly I wanted to get back to you,” Arthur mutters against your skin. You hook your fingers beneath his chin and bring his gaze to yours.

“I need you, please,” you tell him, making him smile.

Arthur sits up on his knees and hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties. You lift your hips, helping him as he pulls the material down. He pushes his boxers down quickly after, his hard cock springing free. You moan at the sight of him kneeling between your legs.

He leans forward and as he settles himself above you, you hook your newly healed leg around his waist and flip him onto his back. The action is awkward in the tight cot, but manageable. Arthur groans as he watches you straddle his lap, his hands sliding up your thighs. “Bloody gorgeous,” Arthur mutters under his breath, his eyes raking over your body.

You place one hand on the uninjured side of Arthur’s abdomen. Reaching down with your other hand, you take hold of Arthur’s length and line him up with your entrance. Arthur hums, his eyes falling shut as you sink down onto him and take him in to the hilt. His fingers dip into the skin of your thighs as your walls stretch to accommodate his size. You take Arthur’s hand in yours, using him for support as you begin to lift and lower yourself.

It felt good to have him inside you again after over a week of separation. Arthur couldn’t seem to get enough either. He lifts his hips in time with your movements, pushing him deep inside you. You moan his name as you fall into rhythm, taking him inside you over and over again. His pupils are blown wide with lust, his gaze watching the way your body reacts to his. Arthur’s cock twitches inside you and his hips instinctively buck off the bed, hard. The sudden movement makes Arthur wince.

“Easy,” you say, pressing gently on his abdomen. You trace the edges of his bruise with his fingertips. Arthur reaches up with his free hand and grasps the nape of your neck. He guides you toward him, your lips meeting his. The new angle has you moaning each time you shift your hips, his cock dragging over your g-spot with each movement.

“Y/N,” Arthur groans. His hand fists messily into your hair. You press his other hand back against the pillow beside his head. You whisper his name over and over again like a prayer, your walls growing tight around his swelling cock.

Your kisses become sloppy as you bring each of you closer and closer to your highs. “Arthur, please,” you mutter against his lips, “Need you to come.” He groans in response, his hand squeezing yours as he throbs inside you.

“Y/N, I -” he begins, but doesn’t get the chance to finish. He groans your name as his cock pulses, spilling himself inside you. You break the kiss and sit up above him, riding him as you chase your high and prolong his.

You watch as pleasure floods his expression. Arthur’s back arches and his chest heaves. His hand holds yours tightly, as if he’s afraid of letting go. The sight of Arthur coming undone beneath you combined with the feeling of him spilling himself inside you sparks your own orgasm.

“Arthur!” you cry out as your walls clamp down around him. Your head tips back as pleasure courses through you, your body shuddering. Arthur’s free hand explores your body as you ride out your high, his fingers mapping out each curve.

Your body relaxes as you begin to recover. Looking down, you find Arthur watching you, his eyes following his fingertips as they trace their way across your body. “I really did miss you,” Arthur whispers.

“I missed you too,” you whisper in return. Reaching down, you cup his cheek and run your thumb across his cheekbone. Arthur leans into the touch, his eyes falling shut. You lift yourself from Arthur’s lap and try to move to his side, but Arthur has other plans. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you down above him.

Your head rests against his chest, his heartbeat racing beneath your ear. His legs tangle with yours. You snuggle against him, your fingers tracing random patterns against his chest. “I hated having to leave you here, with them,” Arthur says, brushing your hair back behind your ear.

“They’re not all bad,” you comment, “Mick’s not as annoying as I thought he would be.”

“Give it time,” Arthur sighs, “You haven’t known him as long as I have.”

“Arthur,” you begin slowly, “What would be so bad about me joining the Men of Letters?”

“Don’t,” Arthur warns, pulling you tighter to him, “You’d only be giving them permission to use and harm you. I’ve said you can stay here, but that doesn’t mean I agreed to you joining us.”

“But if I joined,” you continue, “Could I request you as a permanent hunting partner?”

“Why, because you’re jealous of Mary?” he asks, “That isn’t a good enough reason to join.”

“Well, I might be a little jealous,” you concede, “But it’s more that I don’t trust her. I know she’s a Winchester and I’m sure she’s an amazing hunter, but I don’t trust her to protect you the way I would. This bruise, and the cut on your cheek, I would have tried my hardest not to let that happen.”

“You really do want to be my guardian angel, don’t you?” Arthur teases.

“I’m no angel,” you answer, “But I do like the idea of watching over you and keeping you safe.” Arthur hums.

“You can do that without joining,” Arthur says, “Besides, don’t I deserve the chance to keep you safe as well? Bringing you here was dangerous enough, letting you stay is even more so. I won’t let them sink their teeth in any further if I can help it. You have to be careful while you’re here. Watch what you say and whom you say it to. The Men of Letters has taken everything from me, please don’t let them take you from me too.”

“They won’t,” you promise. If you had anything to say about it, they wouldn’t take anything from him ever again.


End file.
